The Lightsaber
by Tellemicus Sundance
Summary: A childhood love, combined with magical experimentation, and a determination to see his project brought to life. This was all it took to change the world...forever. (A/N: Based on numerous reviews, 'suspension of belief' is evidently required to enjoy this story)
1. A New World Dawns

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#01: A New World Dawns_

_There was a powerful storm raging outside. The winds beat and swayed the stone walls and timber around him, attempting to rip the structure to pieces. Rain pelted everything under the power and guidance of the winds, drenching everything and everyone who were foolish or unlucky enough to get caught out in it. Lightning flashed through the clouds with considerable intensity and frequency, occasionally striking down at some high-rise or metallic structure. In many senses of the word, this storm was one to be remembered for the ages. But for all its power and ferocity, it was still unable to affect any type of change on the stone structure that stood upon the banks of the nearby coast._

_Looking down carefully at the object that was nestled in the palm of his hand, a white-haired old man gazed at it with an intense scrutiny. The metallic rod with some small rubber strips lining the lower half with some small leather straps crisscrossing around the rest of it in a style reminiscent of a Japanese katana, making for an excellent grip. There was a strip of transparent and strong glass that was visible between the leather straps midway up the hilt, exposing a faintly glowing gem inside that was firmly held in place between some small clamps and other machinery. And above the gem and its housing chamber was a couple adjustment knobs and an activation button, set just under a disc that had an open ending. The overall object was covered in tiny runes hidden under the leather and rubber grips that were etched deeply into the metal surfaces, to avoid the runes getting damaged and deformed. A necessary and smart feat since the old device was covered in small nicks, scrapes, and scratches, showing the many years of usage it had endured in the hands of its creator._

"_Grandpa," a young voice said from the open doorway of his room. "I'm scared."_

_The old man looked up, easily spotting the dark silhouette of his 5-year-old granddaughter and he smiled gently at the small red-haired child. Raising his arm, he beckoned the child inside. "Well, come on in, little one."_

_The little girl eagerly raced inside the man's bare, Spartan quarters and climbed up to sit on the side of his bed next to him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, the child buried her face into his robes when an especially loud crash of thunder echoed through the room. Her grandfather just smiled understandingly as he wrapped her up in his arm, holding her gently but firmly, letting her draw comfort from his presence._

_After a moment, the girl relaxed slightly and then noticed the device he held in his hand. "Grandpa, why do you have that out?"_

"_Ah, just remembering __**really**__ old times," the old man answered, a wistful look crossing his face as he returned his gaze to what he held. "So many things happened, so many of them stupid, dangerous, or just unexpected. A new world was dawning around us back then, but we didn't know it at the time. And all of it happened because of __**this**__. This little thing right here caused __**so**__ much death, __**so**__ much devastation, and completely reshaped the world around us."_

"_Can you tell me the story, grandpa?" the girl asked, wide begging eyes looking at him. She loved hearing about her grandfather's adventures and he always had so many of them that she was never bored. But she had never heard him tell this particular story before._

"_It's not really a happy story, my dear," he said, trying to change her mind quickly before she set herself firm._

"_Please?" her begging eyes wider and wetter now. "I really wanna hear it!"_

_Sighing at the lost cause, he finally nodded. "Very well. It all started when I finally finished building this thing for the first time. It was something that had never been done before. And while it was very famous and popular beforehand, no one believed it was truly __**possible**__. And at the time, I didn't realize just what I had done or how it would change me or the world. All I cared about was that I finally had a weapon that I thought could help me defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort…"_

* * *

August 1995

Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch-black and lightless. The star, the moon, the misty streetlamps at either end of the alley had vanished. The distant grumble of cars and the whisper of trees had gone. The balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. They were surrounded by total impenetrable, silent darkness, as though some giant hand had dropped a thick, icy mantle over the entire alleyway, blinding them.

For a split second, Harry thought he had done magic without meaning to, despite the fact that he'd been resisting as hard as he could. Then his reason caught up with his senses, he didn't have the power to turn off the stars. He turned his head this way and that, trying to see something, but the darkness pressed on his eyes like a weightless veil.

Dudley's terrified voice broke in Harry's ear. "W-What are you d-doing? St-Stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything! Shut up and don't move!"

"I c-can't see! I've g-gone blind! I —"

"I said shut up!" Harry stood stock-still, turning his sightless eyes left and right. The cold was so intense that he was shivering all over, goose bumps had erupted up his arms, and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. He opened his eyes to their fullest extent, staring blankly around, unseeing… It was impossible…They couldn't be here…Not in Little Whinging…He strained his ears. He would hear them before he saw them.

"I'll t-tell Dad!" Dudley whimper. "W-Were are you? What are you d-do—?"

"Will you shut up?" Harry hissed. "I'm trying to lis—" He fell silent as he heard what he'd been dreading. There was something in the alleyway apart from themselves. Something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Harry felt a horrible jolt of dread as he stood trembling in the freezing air.

"C-Cut it out! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I will!"

"Dudley, shut—" _WHAM!_

A fist made contact with the side of Harry's head, lifting him off his feet. Small white lights popped in front of his eyes. For the second time in an hour, he felt as though his head had been cleaved in two. The next moment he had landed hard on the ground, and his wand had flown out of his hand.

"You moron, Dudley!" Harry yelled, his eyes watering with pain. He scrambled to his hand and knees, feeling around frantically in the blackness. He heard Dudley blundering away, hitting the alley fence, stumbling. "DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"

There was a horrible squealing yell, and Dudley's footsteps stopped. At the same moment, Harry felt a creeping chill behind him that could only mean one thing. There was more than one.

"DUDLEY, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! WHATEVER YOU DO, KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! Wand!" Harry muttered frantically, his hands flying over the ground like spiders. "Where's – wand – come on – Argh! _That's it!_"

Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans and the breast pocket of his shirt, Harry grabbed to metallic pieces that were held there. One was long and shaped vaguely like some kind of sword hilt. The other was a metal disc with a slight protruding shroud over one end and a screw assembly engraved upon the other. Placing the two pieces together and hurriedly screwing the smaller disc to one end of the hilt, locking in place with an audible clamp, he hefted up the device and thumbed the activation button.

Like a fire that promised warmth and security during a long, cold winter's night, a shaft of bright bluish-white light sprang to life from the end of the disc's emitter. The strong light of the shaft cut through the encompassing darkness, illuminating everything within a five meter radius. In a strange sense, the blade of light brought with it the promise of hope and determination.

Turning around, Harry's stomach turned over as he spotted a towering figure heading towards him. The hooded creature glided through the air with a supernatural grace that was terrifying as it was swift. It had no feet or face beneath its robes, sucking on the night as it came. Despite stumbling backwards, Harry raised his weapon threateningly, trying to ward the creature of darkness. But the entity ignored the glowing blade as it reached for him. Yelling out in a wordless cry, Harry swallowed his fear and swung the blade.

A piercing cry screeched from the creature's nonexistent mouth as the light flashed forward and sliced through its gray, slimy, scabbed flesh. The severed limb dissolved into ash as it fell, completely disintegrating before it'd even reached the ground. With a renewed sense of courage, Harry lunged forward again before the Dementor could recollect itself, stabbing his blade straight into its torso where a heart would've beat on any other living being.

The Dementor's following screech was so loud and deafening that it actually caused Harry's ears to ring, and probably would've easily shattered all glass within its radius. Thankfully the scream was quickly silenced as he yanked his weapon upwards, cutting through yet more of the Dementor as he pulled out the blade. Before he'd even managed to fully extract the weapon, the Dementor had already burst into a similar disintegrating ash and wispy shadows that quickly disappeared.

Turning around and holding his weapon up level with his head in an offensive stance, Harry faced where he knew Dudley had run off towards, ready to deal with the second one. But he quickly saw that the creature was already fleeing, having seen its brethren killed so easily. Lowering his weapon, Harry looked about the ground and finally spotted his dropped wand. Picking it up and pocketing it, he hurried over towards Dudley.

As he did, the moon, the stars, and the streetlamps burst back to life. A warm breeze swept the alleyway. Trees rustled in neighboring gardens and the mundane rumble of cars in Magnolia Crescent filled the air again. Harry stood quite still, all his senses vibrating, taking in the abrupt return to normality. After a moment, he became aware that his t-shirt was sticking to him, he was drenched in sweat. Once he was sure that the Dementor was not returning, he turned to face his cousin.

Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering slightly and shaking, but also staring with wide eyes. As Harry bent down, he saw just what his cousin was staring at. In a strange way, Harry could see that Dudley's eyes were latched upon the blade. The look in his eyes was as though he were seeing something in it, something profound and awe-inspiring, as though it was the only thing that had kept him from giving into the power of the Dementor's all-happiness consuming aura. Pressing the button, he withdrew his weapon's blade with a sharp hiss, unscrewing the emitter, and pocketing the two pieces yet again.

"You okay, Dudley?" Harry asked, trying to sound gentle and not incite his cousin's wrath again.

"I—I—I…_saw_ it," Dudley whispered, shaking even harder as an unknown imaged flashed before his eyes again.

"Yeah, kinda hard to miss a glowing blade right in front of—"

"No…That _thing_," Dudley interrupted. "I c-couldn't see it…o-or anything…Then you made the light come back…and I…_saw_ it…It was _disgusting_."

Despite himself, Harry's eyebrows rose up in surprise. His cousin wasn't even the least bit concerned with what he saw Harry using to fight off the Dementors with. He was shaken because he had seen the _Dementor_ itself. And that was what really surprised Harry. As creatures that were in many ways the 'purest' representation of the darker side of magic, Dementors were invisible to all beings with no magic. Could it be that his new weapon could somehow _illuminate_ Dementors and make them visible to the common man? Definitely something to think on later.

Crouching down, he grabbed ahold of his cousin's arm and shoulder to help hoist him back to feet. "Come on, Big D, let's get you home."

* * *

Harry could honestly say that he'd never had a more aggravating, stressful, or loud argument with his uncle and aunt before. The moment Harry and Dudley had returned to their home, Petunia and Vernon had seen something wrong with Dudley and promptly attacked Harry with a long list of accusations and more than few threats. But with some unexpected and very heartening backup from Dudley, Harry had managed to ride his relatives' fury and explain most of what had happened. Though Vernon came very close to kicking Harry out once he got the idea of Harry being a criminal to the Magical World for 'using a magic sword', Dudley again came to Harry's rescue. So, instead of being kicked out, he was sentenced to isolation in his room for the remainder of his stay at Privet Drive.

It was close to midnight now and all was quiet in the house. Harry sat upon his bed, staring down at his weapon that he'd once again assembled and placed upon the bed in front of him. How had his weapon managed to harm and kill the Dementors? How had it somehow given Dudley the ability to see creatures that were supposedly invisible to the naked nonmagical human eye?

Harry wasn't egotistical enough to believe that his weapon was simply that powerful. He had more or less started designing, experimenting, and building it since he first set foot into Hogwarts four years ago. His experiments leapt forward years in advance when he started his Runes class, learning to enchant and place permanent enchantments onto objects that were anchored by the runes written upon them. Runes played a significant role in his creation of this weapon. With careful transfiguration of certain pieces, enchanted muggle electronics, a small potion of his own creation that could create plasma when a high-intensity light beam was passed through it, and a small ward erected around the emitter disc to contain the plasma blade, he knew that his weapon was something original.

But that still didn't explain to him just how it could do these other special effects without his knowing. He knew he didn't know enough about magic to have consciously built these abilities into the blade design. So how could they have happened? Granted, the weapon was half-magical. Perhaps the magic that created, maintained, and contained the blade is what allowed this to happen?

"Ugh, this doesn't make any sense," Harry muttered to himself.

A questioning hoot from his beloved familiar echoed across the room. Looking over at his beautiful snow-white owl, Hedwig, Harry gave her small, uncertain smile. "Sorry, girl, I just don't understand how my saber is apparently so powerful."

Hedwig just gave him a partial deadpan stare, as if to say '_Why do you care? It works, doesn't it?_'

Chuckling despite himself, Harry nodded to the night bird. "You're right, it probably doesn't matter how or why. Just that it does."

A hesitant knocking on his door broke Harry from his thoughts. Reaching forward, he quickly swept his weapon under his pillow as he stood to his feet. After a quick examination that it was properly hidden, he moved over and opened the door partially, exposing Dudley outside.

"What is it, Dudley?" Harry asked, torn between 14 years of bad relations with his cousin and a recent sense of gratefulness for his cousin's unexpected defense of him against his own parents. "It's late and I'm tired."

"I wanna talk," Dudley said.

"We already are," Harry pointed out.

Dudley just gave him a slight glare, before gesturing with his chin for Harry to open the door fully. With a slight sigh, Harry complied. Once the fat boy was inside and the door was closed, the two cousins faced one another, both suddenly uncomfortable and uncertain how to start the inevitable conversation.

Just as Harry was about to sigh and make a question, Dudley seemed to have firmed his resolve and asked, "Lightsaber?"

Looking up, Harry couldn't quite stop the slight quirk of his lips in a proud smile. "Heh, guess I've seen too much Star Wars growing up."

"So…it was _real?_" Dudley asked, eyes widening in realization that the beautiful light blade he'd seen had been what he first and still thought it was. "You actually made a _real_ lightsaber?! _How?!_"

"_Lots_ of hard work and studying," Harry said, hedging the actual details. "But let's just say that without _magic_, I never could've done it."

Despite himself, Dudley couldn't help but agree with his wizardly cousin. He knew as well as Harry that lightsabers were as close to impossible to make with science and today's present technology. The fact that a Wizard could make one didn't seem nearly as farfetched, disappointing as it may have been.

"C-Can I…Can I see it?" The hesitance but obvious youthful desire in the fat boy's request caught Harry off guard for a moment before a warm smile crossed his lips.

"Only if you keep it a secret," Harry said, still smiling. "I don't want to get swamped by millions of fanatics who all want one too."

A slight grin pulled at Dudley's face before he nodded in acceptance. Moving over to his bed, Harry pulled out the hidden weapon and handed it carefully to his cousin. Dudley took the weapon with the reverence one might expect when handling a holy artifact. He slid his hands over the hilt, examining as much of it in the faint moonlight as he could, twisting it every which way, staring at the small blue gem that was glowing behind the glass and leather.

Pressing the activation button gently, he flinched back slightly when the blue blade sprung to life from the end of the hilt. Staring up at it with a wide-eyed gaze, Dudley turned and moved the blade cautiously around, marveling at how the beam held its shape and consistency. It was, as he'd always imagined, a truly beautiful piece of art.

"No wonder you were able to kill those _things_," Dudley couldn't help uttering as he continued to stare into the blade. "Nothing could stand up against something like _this!_"

"Technically, I only killed _one_ of them," Harry couldn't help pointing out, his smile disappearing at the reminder. There was still a rogue Dementor out there, one likely under Voldemort's control, hence why it attacked them. He needed to send Hedwig with a letter to Dumbledore or the Ministry or _someone_ important about that as soon as possible.

"I wonder if you could stop this Dark Lord that's after you with this," Dudley said, finally looking away from the blade and to its creator.

"That's what I intend to find out," Harry said, shrugging slightly. Dudley could only nod at that, thumbing the button and retracting the blade with hiss.

"I wish I could have one," Dudley said, handing the lightsaber back to Harry. "Wizards and magic are _scary_ and make no sense. But a lightsaber? That is _so_ cool!"

Harry could only grin as he took his weapon back, unlatching the emitter with a casual twist. "To be honest, if I had had the choice, I'd have chosen to have been a Jedi myself. The Wizarding World may be a 'magical' place, but it's far more complex and dangerous than it needs to be." Then a small chuckle escaped Harry as he grinned up at his cousin. "Yeah, you'd have been my 'Han Solo,' and I your 'Luke Skywalker.' Wouldn't have that been something?"

"Yeah," Dudley answered, a grin crossing his face at the silly thought. Then his grin widened as he looked down at Harry. "Especially since Han got the _girl_ at the end!"

As Harry was snorting, a sudden familiar cold and darkness descended around them. Ice began forming upon the window glass and the faint moonlight vanished for the second that night. As Dudley started to recoil and gasp in terror at the return of the horrible sensations, Harry slapped his lightsaber back together and ignited the blade, basking his room and cousin in light once again. Spinning himself around, Harry searched quickly for the source of the freezing darkness.

"H-H-Harry?" Dudley nervously called out, also looking around and trying to find the monster he'd briefly seen earlier. "Wh-Wh-Where is it?"

"I don't know," Harry said, twisting and turning. "I can't see it. But…something's _wrong_. It's…not as _cold_ as it was earlier."

"It's close by but…" Dudley muttered for a moment, reviewing the facts about the hooded monster that Harry had shared with the Dursleys earlier. Then an ominous realization came to him. "MUM! DAD!"

Spinning around, he yanked the door to the hallway open. Almost immediately, they were hit by a blast of much colder air. But before Dudley could rush blindly out and head for his parents' room, Harry grabbed his shoulder and squeezed past, his lightsaber leading the way. At the end of the hall, he burst into his aunt and uncle's room, another and much colder gust of air washing over him. In the blue light his saber was giving off, Harry and Dudley beheld a terrible sight. A Dementor hovering over the sleeping form of Petunia, its face pressed against hers, sucking deeply.

With a loud roar of unexplainable fury, Harry immediately launched himself forward with a speed he never knew he possessed before. Swinging his lightsaber with all the speed and strength he could muster, he slashed the deadly blade clean through the surprised and recoiling Dementor's midriff as it rose and tried to dodge away. As with the previous one, it let out a horrendous screech as it was began rapidly disintegrating, the icy aura of darkness and depression evaporating with it.

"MUM! DAD!" Dudley cried out, rushing forward to his parents as Harry backed away, switching off his saber while he headed for the light switch. The sight that greeted him once the lights flashed on was heartbreaking, even despite who it had happened to. "WAKE UP! PLEASE, _WAKE UP! MUM! DA! __**PLEASE!**_"

Dudley was shaking his parents, first Vernon and then Petunia, trying to awaken their unresponsive bodies. As he moved forward, he easily saw the uncomprehending, glazed look in each of their eyes as they just laid there. They did make any movement or even seem aware of their son's presence and frantic persistence at trying to rouse them. Despair quickly rose up in Dudley as he saw the continued unresponsiveness of his parents, tears of fear and anger falling from his eyes as he continued trying to somehow wake them.

Turning to Harry, he cried out, "HELP, _PLEASE!_ I'll do anything! Just, please, _HELP THEM!_"

"I can't." Never had Harry ever felt so powerless or guilty as he did when he uttered those two words to his frantic cousin. "They're…gone. That Dementor sucked out their souls…like it was trying to do to us earlier."

"But _WHY?!_" Dudley yelled, reaching over and grabbing ahold of Harry's shirt, trying to shake the answers from him. "Why _them? Why_ go for _them?! They didn't __**do**__ anything!_"

"Because that's what a Dementor does," Harry said loudly, trying to unsuccessfully pry Dudley's hands off with his one free hand. "It doesn't need a _reason_. It eats peoples' souls because that what it _does_. It doesn't care about _who_ they are or _why_."

"B-B-But…Mum…Dad…" Dudley's grip loosened as he collapsed limply to his knees, sobbing freely. Unable to find the right words, Harry could only kneel down next to him and pat his shoulder. It was a feeble attempt at best, but he didn't know anything else to do.

* * *

The next morning was terrible under the roof of Number Four Privet Drive. Dudley remained up in his parents' bedroom, still mourning over them and occasionally trying to wake them up. Harry had tried to get him to come out and get some breakfast, but the boy was immovable. He barely ate anything that was put in front of him. His eyes red with dried lines down his cheeks from constant crying. With nothing else to do, Harry simply went about the chores that the Dursleys had more or less programmed into him at an early age. It was a weak attempt at keeping his mind off the soulless beings who were upstairs.

Finally, shortly after noon had passed, Dudley descended down the stairs and took a seat at the kitchen table. Harry looked over at his cousin from where he was washing his dishes from his little meal, before shutting off the water and drying his hands. He took a seat across the table from his cousin, waiting patiently for him to speak.

"This Dark Lord…" Dudley said, in a low voice as he kept his gaze focused down on the table between them. "Who is he? And what does he want?"

"His birth name was Tom Marvolo Riddle, but he took up the name Voldemort when he left Hogwarts fifty years ago," Harry said, equally lowly as his cousin. "He was born into a family that was descended from one of the magic school's founding Wizards: Salazar Slytherin. Slytherin had long ago decided that he didn't want to teach students who weren't of a 'pure magical lineage' and had grown to despise them. He saw anyone who wasn't born into a magical family as being abominations who were little better than trained animals. His ideas spread among the other Wizarding families, especially those of 'pure blood' who wanted more power over others and would anything to get it."

"And this 'Voldemort' leads these purebloods?" Dudley guessed, a small frown forming on his face. "To what? Enslave all those who weren't born into a 'pure' family?"

"More or less," Harry admitted. "I've met him several times. I don't think Voldemort cares so much about blood purity as he does simply wanting to dominate all others. He wants to rule over all others, be they Pureblood _or_ Mudblood, and he's just using the blood purity as an excuse." Taking a breath, Harry slowly continued, "My parents fought against him, long ago. That is how and why they died. He killed them because they were strong and could resist him. But when he tried to kill me for some reason, the Killing Curse backfired and he was destroyed, left little more than spirit without a body. No one knows how he managed to survive, or how I did for that matter. But, during this past June, one of his old servants captured me and used me in a ritual to revive him. It worked, and he's back."

"And now he's going to restart his war," Dudley said. "Try to make everyone his slaves again, or kill those who don't submit to him."

"More than likely, yes," Harry said.

"And that is why you built the lightsaber," Dudley continued. "Because it is something that he's probably never seen or heard of before. He wouldn't know how to fight against it."

"Yes and no," Harry admitted. "I built it before he was reborn, because I had wanted to see if it was even possible to do it. I never had any intention of actually _using_ it."

"No," Dudley said, finally looking up at Harry. "If that was true, you would've never had it with you last night. Those…_Dementors_…would've killed us, for sure. No, I don't believe it is a coincidence that you just happened to make it by _accident_. No, you were _meant_ to make it."

That statement really made Harry feel uncomfortable. He couldn't help lowering his gaze from his cousin's piercing stare. "…Maybe." After a moment of awkward silence, Harry lifted his gaze back to his cousin. "So, what will you do now?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Dudley asked, his face solemn and more serious than Harry had ever seen it before. "I'm gonna help you _kill_ that bastard." As Harry was opening his mouth to object, Dudley raised his hand to silence him. "They made this _personal_, Harry. You're _not_ going to change my mind."

Seeing the look of repressed anger hidden under deep layers of fresh grief, Harry just let out a long, low sigh. "Fine, then. But it'll take _time_, remember that. And if we're really going to do this, we need to get you up to speed on all things magical… Can you handle that?"

"I'll deal with it," Dudley grunted. "Once everything…here is settled, I'm going to join a military academy and get properly trained."

Nodding, Harry pushed himself out of the seat. "Well then, no time like the present to get started. Let me go get a few things, and we can head over to Diagon Alley." As he was heading for the hallway and the stairs, he suddenly stopped and turned back to his cousin. "What do you want to do with…them?"

A pained expression filled Dudley's face for a long moment. Then, he dropped his gaze to the floor as he sighed. "I'll call the ambulances tomorrow… Maybe they could find some way to help?"

Harry didn't have the heart to remind Dudley of the high unlikelihood of that happening. He just nodded. Standing up, Dudley nodded and followed his cousin to the front door, waiting for him to return and for them to get started on their journey.

Though neither of them would realize it until much later, that moment was the ending of their childhoods and their first steps into a much larger world.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) So, tell me, what did all of you think for this opening of my latest idea of a Star Wars x Harry Potter story? I will say this with definitive assurance: _Star Wars_ in this story is _NOT_ an entirely separate universe, nor is the Earth in an undiscovered section of space within the _Star Wars_-verse galaxy. _Star Wars_ is merely a piece of fiction that Harry was deeply inspired by. However, that is not to say that there will not be other continuing similarities and other _SW_-inspired stuff that'll take place within the realms of this story. In fact, a significant piece of the _SW_-franchise will be playing a large role in the course of this storyline and I'll do my best to explain the how's and why's behind it when that piece comes to light.

Now then, that aside, could any of you please tell me what you liked in this chapter? What you didn't? What caught you by surprise? Do you think my brief explanation of how his lightsaber was made and how it works is good enough or do you want a more detailed explanation? Do you like the concept of Dudley joining Harry, in a personal quest to avenge his parents?

And, yes, that reference with Luke and Han is a hint to the type of role Dudley will be playing. Granted, he has a _long_ way to go to reach that point. And, yes, Harry quite obviously took Runes instead of Divination because he saw it as a much more useful class than trying to learn foresight.

As far as pairings go, they're still largely up in the air. However, I will say here and now that I have no intention of making this a Harry/Hermione or Harry/Ginny or Harry/Daphne (too popular!). So, if anyone have got an suggestions (with some halfway plausible reasoning behind them), I'd love to hear your opinions.

For those of you who are wondering, I'm kinda basing Harry's lightsaber off of designs I've seen of Galen Marek's first lightsaber, combined with Rohm Kota's, as well as Kanan's little disassembly trick.


	2. The Alley and the House

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#02: The Alley and the House_

Noon

Dudley's reaction to first seeing the magical street of Diagon Alley was perhaps a very similar representation of his own, Harry later decided. His eyes lit up in wonder at the many colorful and casual displays of magic, the rustic and old world feel, the many different sights and sounds and smells. If it was physically possible, Harry had little doubt that the Dursley boy's head would've been spinning like a top as he tried to see and experience everything.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Harry said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he shot his cousin a sideways glance. "Try not to take it all in at once."

Dudley just continued to gawk, clearly enamored by the wonders of magic. "Come on, Big D," Harry said as he drew up near him. "Let's go get you some reading material."

"Books…?" Dudley couldn't help asking out in a deadpan. Harry couldn't help chuckling at his cousin's expense.

"Trust me," Harry said, guiding him towards Flourish and Blotts. "Even _you'll_ find a lot of these books interesting. Besides, how can we…do our thing, if you don't understand most of what's happening and why?"

Despite the look of constipated disgust on his face at the thought of _reading,_ Dudley nodded in understanding to his cousin's reasoning.

* * *

And thus began their daily visits to Diagon Alley after the coppers and other government officials dealt with the comatose Dursleys and the ensuing legal paperwork. Harry rented a pair of rooms at The Leaky Cauldron for the both of them to stay in during the evenings. He would quiz Dudley on the various magical subjects that he forced himself to read, ranging from basic history to the different types of spells, curses, hexes, and jinxes, as well as the different effects they possessed. The three curses that Harry first introduced him to were of course the Unforgivables, which Dudley made a point of memorizing. They would also occasionally spend a brief time exploring and taking in the sights of the Alley together.

When they inevitably stopped to take a peek inside Ollivander's wand shop, a particular subject arose that Harry hadn't considered until Dudley asked it. How could Dudley help Harry in defeating Voldemort if he couldn't use magic himself? This was a topic they discussed at great length later that evening in the relative safety of their rooms. Dudley assumed, with a fair amount of accuracy, that many Muggle methods of combat were ill-suited to face-off against a fully-trained Wizard or Witch. Granted, Harry was quite sure that a gun could still kill the Witch or Wizard in question like anything else if the shooter managed to get a clean shot.

"Can't you just make another lightsaber for me to use?" Dudley asked, the first question asked once they were back inside their apartment and alone.

"It's not that easy, Dudley," Harry said sternly. "It's not as if I can just collect a bunch of bits and pieces, and make a lightsaber out of them in a day or two. It takes a lot of time, energy, magic, and precision to put one together. And that's not even taking into account the focusing gem." He took out his lightsaber and held it up, showing the glowing gem that was inside it. "I had to create this gem by using a very special potion that needed a large amount of my own magic to form. In a sense, this gem is a small, physical representation of my own magic. So, any gems I make will be attuned to _me_. And while that may not seem important, I still don't entirely understand how such a thing will affect _you_ if you used something that wasn't perfectly attuned to you. For all we know, it could possibly even _kill_ you because you couldn't control it…or lost control of _yourself_."

Dudley frowned deeply at that, obviously not liking the answer. But he made no further comment on it. "What about some other kind of weapon? There must be _something_ that I could use. If you can't help me, then what can i do? Shoot them with Dad's shotgun?"

"Shotgun... Gun... No, Dudley, not a gun." Harry smiled as a random thought struck him.

"Harry?" dudley asked as his cousin fiddled with his lightsaber.

"To the best of my knowledge, any Muggle…er, _normal_ person like you, who has ever tried to use a magical item…It usually didn't turn out too well for them." Harry admitted. "But…maybe I could _make_ you something…special."

"Like what?"

A slight grin pulled at Harry's face. "How about a blaster rifle?"

"Blaster rifle…?" Then he caught the reference. "You mean like in Star Wars? Those blasters?"

"Exactly!" Harry said, a sense of excitement rising up in him as fresh ideas began to churn and twist about in his head. "It wouldn't be like with a lightsaber. But it could definitely be helpful. And I'd have to somehow create the blasterbolts…" Abruptly standing to his feet, Harry grinned as he said, "I going to go collect some basic materials and get started experimenting. Try not to get into any trouble."

Dudley just snorted as he sat down on the bed and grabbed one of Harry's old schoolbooks to read again. He knew he'd be rereading these books many times in the coming weeks and months, but it wouldn't hurt to get a head start on them now while he still had the free time to. Once he was accepted into the military academy, he wouldn't have _any_ free time.

* * *

A week had passed since the cousins' first arrival in the Alley. While Dudley was largely distracted by the police investigations, lawyers, bankers, and a wide variety of other legal matters in the wake of his parents' sudden and unexpected 'comatose states', Harry continued his research and experiments into creating a blaster rifle. In some ways, his creation of the lightsaber gave him a basis on what to do and how it could work. But at the same time, he also had to start from scratch, using completely new materials and devising new runic arrays specifically for the to-be-blaster rifle. He wasn't even going to attempt to find a potion solution or something similar to be used as the medium for the ammunition until he reached Hogwarts and had some proper supplies and equipment he could use.

However, that didn't stop him from constantly browsing the foul-smelling shop that sold potion ingredients. And it was during one of those numerous searches that he came across some quite unexpected discoveries. He had been browsing through a thick booklet of the many different types of potions that could be made using certain rare, powerful, or common ingredients when he found two particular potions that immediately drew his interest.

One was a weight-loss potion that could help a person lose large amounts of fat or flab without the need for months of painful exercises and diets. Given Dudley's newfound determination to join the military, this potion would most assuredly come in very handy. The second potion was much more personal in nature to Harry. It could correct his terrible eyes, giving him perfect vision without the need for his glasses anymore. He couldn't even begin to count how many times he'd gotten into trouble because of unexpected impacts knocking his glasses off his face. As such, Harry had temporarily put aside his new project and purchased the long list of ingredients for both potions and began brewing both that very night.

"What is it?" Dudley asked, a disgusted look crossing his face as he held the large silver goblet carefully in both hands. He couldn't help turning his face away from the absolutely _foul_ smelling concoction that the goblet held within.

"Think of it as the ultimate diet drink," Harry said, grinning proudly and drawing some humor from Dudley's reactions to the smell despite his best attempts not to. "You drink that, and you're suddenly six hundred kilograms lighter."

"What?!" Dudley asked, looking sharply over at him. Then his face grimaced again in disgust. "But why does it _smell_ like this?"

"The only ones that smell or taste good are _poisons_," Harry quoted wisely. "Trust me: the more disgusting it is, the better it is for you…usually."

"If I drink this, I'm gonna _barf_ all over the place!"

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll sharing your pain," Harry said, moving over to the desk in the corner of the room and grabbing a simple pewter goblet of his own. "Mine is to improve my eyesight."

Dudley raised his brow at that, clearly trying to picture his cousin without his distinctive round glasses. Then he looked back down at the potion he held and grimaced yet again. "Do I _have_ to?"

"It would probably help a great deal for getting you into the academy," Harry pointed out softly. "Not to be mean or anything, but you could definitely stand to lose a few hundred kilograms or so."

Dudley looked up sharply again, his eyes glaring slightly. After a moment, he grimaced one final time before raising the goblet and drinking the foul liquid as quickly as he could, trying to keep as little of it off of his tongue as he possibly could. Not that it did much good. He barely managed to swallow the last little bit before throwing the goblet violently aside and falling to his hands and knees, moaning piteously. His stomach immediately began throbbing and aching as the potion began to take effect, soon spreading throughout his entire body. Dudley collapsed onto his side, shaking and trembling violently, loud wails of agony coming from his mouth as he was helpless to do anything but endure it.

Harry was right down there with him as well. But his torment was much more focused. His whole head, brain, and especially his eyes all burned with the heat of an oven, threatening to burst into flame. His hands rising up to his face, Harry found his skin scorching hot to the touch and he couldn't help but cry out in pain right next to Dudley. After ten long, excruciating minutes of agony, both teenagers were finally silenced as their respective potions ran their course and began to wear off.

Weakly pushing himself up to his hands and knees, Dudley reached up and grabbed the bedside table. Hoisting himself up to his feet was a chore because his legs and knees were shaking violently, still somewhat recovering from whatever had happened to him. Grasping the tabletop with both hands, Dudley steadied himself, breathing deeply as he waited for his body to stop shaking. Finally, after several moments, he felt his strength returning to his body.

Looking up into the mirror that was on the wall in front of him, Dudley let out a loud yell of surprise when he saw the face that was staring back at him. "I'm thin!" Raising his hands up to his face, he began patting his face in disbelief and rising excitement. "My cheekbones! I can see my cheekbones!"

He stumbled back a few steps as the realization that the potion had indeed worked as Harry said it would began to set in. As he did, he noticed that his clothing was hanging extremely loosely upon his frame. The only reason that his pants hadn't fallen to the floor was because of the suspenders he wore underneath his shirt were holding them up. Grabbing his torso and feeling his stomach in rising exhilaration, he cried out, "I'm thin! My stomach's gone! I can feel my ribs! I'm thin! I'm thin!" As he was looking down at his greatly flattened stomach, he saw something that he hadn't seen in an admittedly long time. "Holy fucking _shit!_ I can see my _dick!_"

"Calm down, ya wanker," Harry called from where he was sitting with his back against the bedframe. "I bet all of Diagon Alley can hear you."

"But I'm thin!" Dudley cried out again, turning and beaming at his cousin with wide and truly honest delight. "I'm actually _thin!_"

Harry just snorted at his cousin's hysteria, his green eyes unencumbered by glasses for the first time in more than a decade.

* * *

Two weeks later

Despite his very limited scope and exposure to Wizarding homes, Harry could state with absolute certainty that the Black family home at Number 12 Grimmauld Place was the dreariest, filthiest, and most unwelcoming he'd likely ever come across in his entire life. He had only spent a week in the place and he already loathed it. Between the many hundreds of Dark artifacts, cursed items, the shrieking portrait of Sirius's mother, and the ghastly Kreacher trying to steal back all the items they tried to dispose of, there was truly nothing remotely good about the house itself. The only positive thing about it was the people he met inside it: members of Dumbledore's vigilante order against Voldemort like the Metamorphmagus Tonks, the Auror Shacklebolt, the real Moody; the Weasley family; and most importantly his best friends.

Needless to say, the Order of the Phoenix were in quite a state of panic and hysteria when he was finally brought in. They had heard the news that the Dursleys had been left comatose, their young son and sole heir joining a Hitwizard type of school, and Harry mysteriously disappearing for two weeks straight afterwards. Harry told them a slightly edited version of the truth. That he and Dudley had been attacked by Dementors but had made it back to the house safely, only to be attacked again later that night, which was when his relatives were Kissed and he somehow 'blasted them to pieces' in retaliation. The Order was quite nervous of the possibility that Dementors were already defecting to Voldemort's side and all of them had been confused as to how the soul-suckers managed to penetrate the protective wards that Dumbledore had likely put up around the house (which was news to Harry). In a strange twist of fate, Harry was actually secretly relieved that Mundungus Fletcher had abandoned his post of supervising Harry shortly before the attack. That meant that his creation and use of his lightsaber was still largely a secret.

It was late in the evening now that Harry was finally able to drag Hermione, Ron, and Sirius away to have a private discussion. Sirius had brought them up into his mother's old bedroom, which he had apparently decided to house the smelly, restless, and messy Buckbeak the Hippogriff. After placing silencing spells around the room to prevent eavesdropping, at Harry's request, Sirius finally turned to the dark-haired teenager and said, "Okay, lad, care to share what _really_ happened?"

"Where's your glasses, mate?" Ron asked. "Lose them? Broke them again?"

"Ron, let him speak!" Hermione ordered, giving him a slight nudge in the gut with her elbow before returning her attention to Harry.

"Ron, Hermione, remember that 'secret project' I'd been working on last year?" Harry asked with a knowing grin.

At the reminder, both of them nodded with slightly pouting expressions on their faces, Hermione more so than Ron. They had been trying to figure out what he was working on so intensely that he even occasionally forgot about the dangerous tournament he'd been forcefully entered into, but he always clammed up and refused to tell them. He privately admitted to himself that he didn't tell them about it because he didn't want to humiliate himself on the likely chance his invention wouldn't work. Plus he didn't want to run the risk of having Hermione's logic trying to dissuade and discourage him.

"Well, I finished it a little before the Final Task," he said, his grin dropping at the memory of Cedric's death resurfacing. Quickly shaking it from his thoughts, he continued, "I had it on me when the Dementors attacked my cousin Dudley and I. With it, I was able to _kill_ them."

"WHAT?!" all three of his companions demanded loudly, disbelief plainly obvious in their voices.

"You killed a _Dementor?!_" Sirius demanded, rushing forward and grabbing Harry by his shoulders, looking directly into his eyes as though searching for the answers. "_**HOW?!**_"

"Dementors are supposed to _impossible_ to kill!" Hermione loudly declared in a rapid tone of voice with absolute certainty. "Even the mightiest of Wizards and Witches have been unable to actually kill them! And the only spell that actually affects them is the Patronus Charm! How could you possibly—"

"Hermione! Breathe!" Harry ordered, speaking louder than her to be heard. "And, if you guys'll give me a moment, I'll tell you!"

After several long moments of allowing them to calm down, Harry reached down and unhooked the hilt that was hanging from his belt strap while digging out the emitter shroud from his pocket. His friends and godfather watched in confusion and mounting anticipation as he screwed the two pieces together and took a few steps backwards from them. Holding up his lightsaber hilt, he grinned knowingly as they all stared at it with varying degrees of confusion. "This is what I was making last year, and how I was able to kill the Dementors."

With a snap-hiss, he ignited his lightsaber, causing all three to flinch back in surprise. But while Ron and Sirius just studied the light blade with a type of curious perplexity, Hermione's eyes widened significantly as she gasped out in shock.

"Harry!" she uttered. "Is—Is that—? Is that a—?"

"Lightsaber?" he finished for her, grinning even wider. He nodded. "Yup."

"What's a lightsaber?" came the predictable question from Ron.

"A fictional weapon used by a monastic order of warriors in a science fiction-fantasy story that Muggles like to watch on television," was Hermione's automatic and rather distracted answer. Her eyes still locked upon the blade, as though trapped in some kind of trance-like state.

"What?" Ron and Sirius both asked.

"A type of magic sword that many Muggles wish were real," Harry clarified, adjusting his grip on the hilt and holding the weapon out for Hermione to take hold of. Seeing the unresponsive girl was refusing to take it, Ron reached forward to take it, his hand heading for the blade itself. Harry quickly pulled the saber back out of reach. At Ron's questioning and somewhat hurt expression, he quickly said, "The blade can cut _anything_ like magic. Take the hilt."

Ron nodded and, much more cautiously, reached forward and took hold of the weapon's hilt. Lifting the weapon up, he looked closer at the blade, with Sirius walking up next to him to examine it better himself. "It's so light," Ron observed. "Like the blade isn't even there."

"Which is part of the reason it's so _dangerous_," Hermione said, finally starting to come out of her stupor. "Unlike all other weapons, there's no counterweight on a lightsaber. With its ability to cut through anything, a person could easily cut their own limbs off if they're not paying attention."

"It can cut through _anything?_" Sirius repeated, looking between the lightsaber, Hermione, and Harry.

"Well, I still haven't quite finished _testing_ it," Harry admitted sheepishly. "But it definitely cut the Dementors apart!"

_"How_ did you manage to _make_ this?!" Hermione finally shrieked, turning her full attention onto Harry. "You _have_ to tell me! I want to _know!_ Did you document it?! _PLEASE TELL ME YOU DOCUMENTED THIS!_"

"Er…not really," Harry admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "All I really did was draw up a few sketches, make a few notes and lists of ideas. I didn't see the point of trying to 'document it' since I wasn't sure if it'd really work. I didn't want to record something that might embarrass me later if it went wrong."

"But, Harry, if you didn't write down what you did wrong, how could you be sure what you did next wasn't just some variation of what you did before?! Thomas Edison documented every one of his failures before he managed to succeed in making the light bulb! How could you be so lax?!" She asked in horror. "You are going to teach me how to make one!"

Harry didn't doubt her for a second.

"You said it can cut through anything?" Ron asked, a strange expression of hopeful yearning and frightened anxiety on his face. "Really?"

"It's partly made of plasma, so it's _possible_," Harry said. Seeing Ron and Sirius's confusion, he added, "Basically, really, _really_ hot 'solid fire'."

"Let's test that," Sirius said, taking out his wand and conjuring several large objects. The blocks were all different materials like wood, steel, granite, marble, and he ever transfigured a rotted floorboard into a pig.

Ron glanced between the different blocks and the saber, finally looking over at Harry questioningly. Harry shrugged and waved his hand in permission. Smiling slightly, Ron first approached the block of wood. Making sure no one was near him, he gave a tentative swing, apparently only really expecting it to hit against the edge of the wooden block and bounce off like a normal sword blade. Instead, the saber easily sliced through several inches of the wood before Ron caught himself and jumped back in surprise, revealing a darkened slash mark in the wood where the blade had been.

"No way!" Ron said, disbelief obvious in his voice. "I wasn't even really _trying_ and look at it!"

"Well, I'd say the wood is a positive test result," Hermione remarked in a dry tone, far from impressed or surprised. Moving forward, she carefully took the blade from Ron. "My turn."

Turning to the steel block as Sirius distractedly vanished the wood, she gave a much harder swing than Ron. Unlike with the wood, the steel beam was visibly stronger and much more able to resist the saber blade. Hermione's swing was slowed significantly several inches into the beam, reduced to little more than a slow pull. Rather than cut the beam all the way through, she retracted the lightsaber halfway, deactivating the saber and watching the molten steel slowly cool and harden again. "Interesting."

The granite block proved to be the toughest to cut through since it was both heavier and denser than the steel had been. But the saber did manage to make a small amount of damage to the stone after several long moments of exposure. By contrast, the marble was like the midway point between the wood and steel, slightly harder to cut through but not enough to slow or stop a dedicated power attack, as Sirius so happily demonstrated after several tries while wearing a shit-eating grin.

Finally reaching the pig, all of them just started at the oinking creature for a long moment. "I guess it goes without saying that it could kill the pig," Harry said quietly, no one objecting to his assumption as he deactivated the saber.

"Now I know for sure where you get your brains from," Sirius said, staring at Harry as though seeing him for the first time. "James was many things, but an inventor was not one of them. This…weapon could be worth thousands of galleons! Bloody hell, this is worth more than _gold_. It could introduce a whole new level of magical combat!"

"Exactly," Harry said. "A new level where old Tom _won't_ have the default advantage anymore!"

"I wonder if the lightsaber can also do what it does in the movies," Hermione muttered to herself.

"What's that?" Ron asked, curious to know what _else_ this strange new weapon could do.

"Harry, one last experiment," Hermione said, before looking over at Sirius. "Could you try to stun him?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, I get it!" Harry said, catching onto what Hermione was hinting towards. Quickly reigniting his saber, he held it protectively in front of his body, staring and waiting for Sirius to attack. "Come on, Sirius. Take a shot at me!"

Though confused, the man complied and fired a Stunner at his godson. He and Ron watched in shock as Harry just barely managed to maneuver his lightsaber and catch the spell on the blade, sending the bolt of magic ricocheting off to the side and impacting the far wall. As Harry and Hermione were looking over at the wall, Ron and Sirius were visibly gawking. The lightsaber could also deflect and redirect _spells?!_ Forget what he said earlier, this wasn't just a new level but a whole new _realm_ of unexplored magical combat!

"Hey, Sirius, what are those over there?" Harry asked, staring at something he could see on the wall, drawing the man's attention to where he was looking.

Sirius blinked in surprise at what he saw. There, lining the wall where his stunner had impacted, was a pair of shelves that ran the whole length of the wall and jam-packed with books, scrolls, and parchment. How had he never noticed that before? "Don't know. I could've sworn I cleared this room before I brought Buckbeak in here." Then, as Harry sheathed his blade, the bookshelves inexplicably disappeared. All of them just blinked in surprise when they saw that.

"No way!" Sirius muttered, somewhat shocked.

"Well, I guess that answers that question," Ron muttered under his breath, realizing that they'd just discovered yet _another_ ability of the lightsaber. The ability to reveal what was hidden under magic. Looking over at Harry, he said, "Mate, how long does it take to make one of those?" When Harry glanced at him, he just grinned embarrassedly, rubbing the back of his neck as his ears turned slightly red. "I think I want one too."

"We must experiment!" Sirius suddenly loudly declared, a strange excitement rising to surface in him. This strongly reminded him of his dearly beloved years back in Hogwarts and experimenting with potions and spells with the Marauders. He suddenly felt twenty years younger! Harry just chuckled as he reignited the lightsaber and went along with Sirius as they tried to figure out the limits of his lightsaber's 'revealing' power.

Several minutes later, he locked the blade on and set the lightsaber down on the block of marble that Sirius still hadn't yet vanished. With the proper illumination, all four of them moved over to clean and clear the bookshelves. As he was peering across the various titles of the books, one particular leather-bound book caught his eye for some reason. Cautiously taking ahold of it and pulling it out gently, in case there were any unpleasant curses waiting, he lowered the book down and quietly read the title.

'The Art of Sorcery' by Sir Henry Morgan. For some reason, he felt…compelled to take this book.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) A fast update, whaddya know?! But don't get use to this. I've just been unusually inspired by this story. But I've also run into some problems with my storyline and how certain characters will develop as the plot progresses. But, that those problems don't really start until a little further into the storyline than this.

Big thanks to **Fiori75** for helping me refine this chapter, and **M2J MandalorianJedi** for helping me fine tune the storyline.

But, the biggest thanks goes to all of you for your insightful and reviews and your choices of a pairing for Harry. I still haven't made my choice on _that_ matter, but I do now have a list to work with. Thanks again!

**PS: Harry was _EXAGGERATING _when he said Dudley weighed 600 kilograms!**


	3. Return to Hogwarts

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#03: Return to Hogwarts_

September 1, 1995

The train was gathering speed, the houses outside of the window flashed past and they swerved where they stood. The trio of friends had just managed to catch the train on time, but still needed to find a compartment, or at least Harry did. Ron and Hermione reluctantly shuffled off to the Prefect carriage, Hermione trying to give a feeble reassurance that they'd probably be allowed to come join him later on. But the reassurance didn't help much. He felt an odd sense of loss since he'd never traveled on the Hogwarts Express without Ron.

He and Ginny struggled off down the corridor, peering through the glass-paneled doors into the compartments they passed, which were already full. Harry could not help noticing that a lot of people stared back at him with great interest and that several of them nudged their neighbors, pointing him out. After he had met this behavior in five consecutive carriages he remembered that the Daily Prophet had been telling its readers all summer what a lying show-off he was. He wondered bleakly whether the people now staring and whispering believed in the stories.

In the very last carriage, they met Neville Longbottom. Neville's face was shining with the effort to pull his trunk along and maintaining a one-handed grip on his struggling toad, Trevor. "Hi, Harry…Hi, Ginny…Everywhere's full…I can't find a seat."

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked, who had squeezed past Neville to peer into the compartment behind him. "There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in here—"

Neville mumbled something about not wanting to disturb anyone.

"Don't be silly," Ginny laughed. "She's all right." She slid the door open and pulled her trunk inside it. Harry and Neville followed soon after.

The girl beside the window looked up. She had straggly, waist-length, dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. Harry knew at once why Neville had chosen to pass this compartment by. The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her ear for safekeeping, that she'd chosen to wear a necklace of Butterbeer caps, or that she was reading a magazine upside-down. Her eyes ranged over Neville and came to rest on Harry. Then she simply nodded.

"Thanks," Ginny said, smiling.

Harry and Neville stowed the three trunks and Hedwig's cage in the luggage rack and sat down. The girl called Luna watched them over her upside-down magazine, which was called The Quibbler. She didn't seem to need to blink as much as a normal person. She stared at Harry for a long while, even after he'd taken the seat opposite her and now wished he hadn't.

"Have a good summer, Luna?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Luna said dreamily, without taking her eyes off Harry. "Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. _You're_ Harry Potter."

"I know I am," Harry said, causing Neville to chuckle.

Turning her gaze to Neville, Luna finally blinked and then narrowed her eyes faintly, as though trying to see something. "I don't know who you are, but…a touch of destiny has happened today."

"What?" both boys asked, blinking and staring at her in confusion. But Luna merely retreated back behind her magazine, not sharing any further words. Looking at each other for a moment, both boys shrugged in confusion. Harry stood up and pulled out the old leather-bound book he'd been cradling under his arm the whole time, opening it to its front page and started reading.

'_The art of Sorcery is the ability to draw in the ambient magical energy that surrounds and is created by living beings. Drawing this latent energy inside the Sorcerer's body, using it to enhance their magical power and even their physical strengths to certain degrees_.' Harry read from the book he had taken from Grimmauld Place. '_When a Sorcerer is suitably trained, they can sense the different auras given off by others and can detect when a person or creature is nearby, even if they're actively trying to remain hidden. Luminous beings that shine with depths of their power cannot remain hidden to a Sorcerer, not matter the magic they use._'

"Empower them…? This sounds… a _lot_ like…the Force," Harry muttered to himself. '_Could…Could George Lucas be a Sorcerer too?_'

"What does, Harry?" Ginny asked from where she was seated next to Luna.

"This book here," Harry said, turning it slightly so he could share the text with her and Neville who had peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of it himself. "It talks about using the magical energies of the environment to increase a Wizard's power. Look here, 'Luminous beings that shine with power'. That sounds a lot like the Force in the Muggle television movies called 'Star Wars.' I wonder if the creator of the movies knew about this."

"I don't get it," Ginny said, looking very confused. "What's 'Star Wars' exactly?"

And thus began a very long discussion between about Star Wars, with Harry having to draw a lot comparisons from old world technologies to help Neville, Ginny, and even Luna to better grasp what he was trying to explain. Thus, the _Millennium Falcon_ became a sailboat, the Death Stars were castles that could shoot huge Avada Kedavra beams to destroy whole cities, stormtroopers and blaster rifles became Death Eaters, the Jedi were like Aurors, and the Force was like magic without needing a wand.

Needless to say, Harry was pretty sure that his listeners were probably very interested in seeing the actual movies, just so they could understand his descriptions better. Harry was more than eager to resume his reading by the end of it. But sadly he was interrupted again shortly into it when Ron and Hermione finally arrived. The two of them quickly settled in with the group and before long things were going smoothly. Harry decided to put the book aside to read later.

* * *

The four long House tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other Houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again, Harry noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed. He gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.

Luna had drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindor's, Ginny was hailed by some fellow Fourth Years and left to sit with them. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Parvati and Lavender gave Harry airy, overly friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second beforehand. And if his new eyes weren't fooling him, both of them gazed at him a touch longer than was necessary.

He had more important thing to worry about, however. Turning his gaze towards the staff table, he looked over the heads of the many students to try and catch a glimpse of a friend who was missing for some reason. But Hagrid wasn't seated at the staff table either. "He's not there."

Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too, though there was no real need. Hagrid's size made him instantly obvious in any lineup. Sounding slightly anxious, Ron said, "He can't have left."

"Of course he hasn't," Harry said firmly.

"You don't think he's…hurt or anything, do you?" Hermione asked uneasily.

"No," Harry said at once.

"But where is he, then?"

There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati, and Lavender couldn't hear, "Maybe he's not back yet. You know—from his mission—the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore."

"Yeah…Yeah, that'll be it," Ron said, sounding reassured. But Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence.

"Who's that?" she asked sharply, pointing toward the middle of the staff table.

Harry's eyes followed hers. They lit first upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the center of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore's head was inclined toward the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Harry thought, like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and he saw a pallid, toad-like face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

"Don't know," Harry admitted. "Maybe she's the new Defense teacher?"

"Nice cardigan," Ron remarked with a smirk.

A few moments later, Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared behind the staff table and worked her way over to the place that was normally Hagrid's seat. That meant that the First Years must have crossed the lake and reached the castle. And sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the entrance hall opened and a long line of scared-looking eleven-year-olds entered, following Professor McGonagall.

After an unusually long song from the Sorting Hat, followed by the Sorting itself, and a very satisfying meal, Dumbledore got to his feet to address the school at large. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the headmaster. Harry was feeling pleasantly drowsy now and wanted nothing more than to rush over to his waiting bed. But he forced himself to pay attention as the headmaster began to speak.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students—and a few of our older students out to know by now too." Harry, Ron, and Hermione all exchanged smirks at that last remark. "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things. All of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door."

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons. We are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause. Dumbledore hadn't said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching, which was very distressing for Harry, Ron, and Hermione as their worry for Hagrid grew slightly.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the—" Dumbledore broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge.

As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped speaking, but then Professor Umbridge said, "_Hem, hem_," and it became clear that she had gotten to her feet and was intending to make a speech. Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously didn't know how things were done at Hogwarts.

"Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome," Professor Umbridge simpered. Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish. For some inexplicable reason, Harry felt a sudden and very powerful rush of intense dislike towards her that he couldn't explain to himself. All he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough ("Hem, hem") and continued. "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" Her smile revealed very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little face looking back at me!"

There were no smiling faces looking at her. Mostly because all of the students couldn't believe that they were getting addressed by her as though they were five-year-olds. Professor Umbridge paid that little detail no mind as she continued with her speech.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young Witches and Wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back. As the toad-like lady continued her speech, Harry's attentiveness ebbed. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Professor Umbridge didn't seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Harry had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have plowed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively. Hermione seemed to be thinking very hard on Umbridge's words, and judging by her expression, she didn't like what she was hearing.

After several long minutes, Dumbledore stood back up when Umbridge _finally_ ended her speech. Though the staff gave a short, quiet applause, very few students joined in since they hadn't even noticed the speech had ended. At least, not until Dumbledore spoke up and regained the students' attentions again. "Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating. Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…"

"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," Hermione said in a low, almost dangerous voice.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron asked quietly, turning a glazed face upon Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

"I said 'illuminating', not enjoyable," Hermione pointed out. "It explained a lot."

"Did it?" Harry asked in surprise. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."

"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," she said. "Stuff like 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged' and 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'."

"What does that mean?" Ron asked impatiently.

"I'll tell you what it means," Hermione said ominously. "It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."

Now Harry knew for a fact why he'd taken such a strong, seemingly irrational dislike to the new professor so quickly.

* * *

History of Magic was by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by Wizardkind. The ghostly Professor Binns had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes. Or, more accurately, gazed sleepily into space. Harry and Ron had only managed to scrape passes in the subject by copying Hermione's notes before exams. She alone seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binn's voice.

Since he knew what to expect, Harry didn't even bother trying to pay attention. He just pulled out his leather book on Sorcery and began reading again, quickly becoming deeply immersed by what he found inside. As he had first thought Sorcery was extremely similar the Star Wars portrayal of the Force. But there was a fair number of differences that Harry spotted as well. Not necessarily in how the ambient magic affected the Sorcerer and could be used for, but in the tone of the text itself.

It was clearly written by an experienced Sorcerer (which Harry guessed the infamous pirate must've been), but there were certain phrases and the way in which Sir Morgan described using Sorcery. Little keywords that made Harry begin to realize that Sir Henry Morgan had also been a Dark Wizard. He spoke of how the Sorcerer had to absorb the magic, shape and break it, mold it to fit the Wizard's desire and intent, how the absorbed magic could potentially amplify a Sorcerer's emotions and thus increase his strength and connection to the ambient magic. But what really hit it home was the simple phrase that Morgan spoke of when he was explaining how to first touch and access the ambient magic through the use of an obscure potion.

'_Anger is a Wizard's greatest strength. And the stronger our anger, the greater we can summon and control the ambient magics._' Despite himself, Harry couldn't help agreeing with that opinion. It was true after all. Every time he'd ever cast a spell when he was especially angry or had some strong emotion powering him, he'd always been able to use his magic much more easily and cast surprisingly stronger spells.

All-too-soon the class ended and Harry was forced to stow his book away into his bag. It was only as he was gathering up his things that he realized that Hermione and Ron were both glancing at him with questioning gazes in their eyes. They knew he'd been distracted all throughout class, and they were reluctantly curious by what it was. Harry could help quietly chuckling at them in embarrassment. For so long he'd been keeping secrets from them (not necessarily earth-shattering, in his opinion) out of habit to avoid embarrassment or discouragement, but it seemed that they had started to catch onto him doing so. He'd have to fix that sooner or later, he realized.

* * *

Defense Against the Dark Arts had always been a favorite of Harry's. And yet now, he could clearly see that his love of the subject was in serious danger of a grisly and untimely death. All at the hands of a Ministry pawn who'd been forcefully placed into the position. Partway into the class, after having been forced to study the theory of defense, the entirety of the class had more or less taken a much more active interest in the verbal sparring match that had been understandably instigate by Hermione.

"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione had started out, causing Professor Umbridge (and admittedly most of the class) to raise her eyebrows.

"And your name is…?"

"Hermione Granger," she supplied.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," Umbridge said in a voice of determined sweetness.

"Well, I don't," Hermione said bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about _using_ defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

"_Using_ defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to _use_ a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron ejaculated loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.—?"

"Weasley," Ron said, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eye's lingered on Harry for a long moment before she addressed Hermione. "Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," Hermione said. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" Professor Umbridge asked in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but—"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way—"

"What use is that?" Harry asked loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it would be in a—"

"Hand, Mr. Potter!" Professor Umbridge sang in that sweet voice that was really starting to grate on his nerves. Harry didn't even bother trying to raise his hand as the Professor promptly turned away from him anyway. Instead, she found herself suddenly bludgeoned by several other people who had raised their hands. "And your name is?"

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" Dean said. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free—"

"I repeat," Professor Umbridge said, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean. "Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but—"

And thus Professor Umbridge exposed her true self to the class and school as a whole. She openly condemned her predecessors, even calling Lupin 'an extremely dangerous half-breed'. She bluntly refused to teach or allow them to practice any of the necessary spells needed to pass their OWLs, claiming that studying theory was enough to guarantee a perfect first attempt at any spell cast. All the hypocrisy and her all-but-stated desire to have them all fail perhaps the single most important exams of their lives quickly stoked Harry's already volatile temper into a raging fire. Until, finally, he just couldn't hold his silence anymore.

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" he demanded loudly, his fist in the air.

Professor Umbridge looked up. "This is a school, Mr. Potter, not the real world."

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Oh yeah?" he said, a dangerous tone in his voice.

"Who do you imagine want to attack children like yourselves?" inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

"Hmm, let's think…" he said back in a mock thoughtful voice. "Maybe _Lord Voldemort?_"

Ron gasped, Lavender Brown uttered a little scream, Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, didn't flinch. She was staring Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.

"Now, let me make a few things quite plain," Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned toward them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk. "You have been told that a certain Dark Wizard has returned from the dead—"

"He wasn't dead," Harry said angrily. "But, yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," Professor Umbridge said in one breath without looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark Wizard is at large once again. _This is a lie_."

"It is _not_ a lie!" Harry snapped. "I saw him! I fought him!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Professor Umbridge declared quite triumphantly, as though fulfilling a goal she'd set for herself. "Tomorrow evening, five o'clock. My office. I repeat, _this is a lie_. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark Wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming with fibs about reborn Dark Wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.'"

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him. Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.

"Harry, no!" Hermione hissed at him warningly, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach.

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead on his own accord, did he?" Harry asked, his voice shaking from his barely restrained anger.

There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry talk about what happened on the night that Cedric had died. They stared avidly from Harry to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she said coldly.

"It was murder," Harry corrected hotly. He could feel himself shaking. He had hardly talked to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates. "Voldemort killed him, and you know it."

If he'd had a cooler head on his shoulders at that time, Harry would've known that she had been baiting him all along. But just the same, his temper got the better of him and a wide kaleidoscope of thoughts, accusation, raging theories, and random ideas were racing through his mind as Professor Umbridge sent him with a note to Professor McGonagall. Thoughts like how Voldemort was a seemingly all-powerful Dark Wizard. The willful blindness of the Ministry to Voldemort's return was now being used to actively sabotage him, his friends, and his classmates when they needed defensive skills the most. That Voldemort was a genius and expert in the Dark Arts and had 50 years to refine and expand his powers in it. How he, Harry, had survived thus far on pure dumb luck. In a simple one-on-one death match between the two of them, Voldemort would swat him aside like a fly on the wall. That even with his new lightsaber throwing the odds a little better in his favor, he was still horribly outclassed in every manner.

When he reached McGonagall's office door, he had had a slight epiphany. He needed to learn something powerful, something so exotic that even Voldemort would've have learned and mastered it. And, even if it was written by a Dark Wizard, perhaps the book on Sorcery was his ticket to finally evening out the odds by giving him a wild card to throw at the Dark Lord?

* * *

September 10, 1995

If ever there was a time that Harry truly loved the weekend, it was now. The homework given by the professors was simply massive and only continued to pile higher. His weeklong detentions for that evil toad-faced excuse for a Defense Professor only compounded things. And practically having the whole school believing the rubbish that the Ministry was having the Daily Prophet print was just the icing on the cake. In all, his first week back to Hogwarts was a horrible experience with his temper very, _very_ close to the surface.

It was Sunday and Harry had finally managed to get away from everyone and have some personal time. As such, he had claimed a long deserted classroom in the unused dungeons under the North Tower as his private sanctuary. Thanks to his Invisibility Cloak and laying some Notice-Me-Not runes around his chosen room, not even the Slytherins knew of his presence down in their domain. No better place to hide than right under your enemy's nose after all.

Now he doing something that was both arguably dangerous and utterly foolhardy. He had set up his workshop again, complete with his extra potion supplies, several books on advanced Runes, Transfiguration, Charms, Wards, a large collection of junk metal and plastics he'd collected back in London, and a bulletin board that he'd be pinning his various designs and ideas on. He was finally able to continue with his promised project of helping Dudley get his vengeance on Voldemort.

At least, that was his intention with this workshop. What he was actually doing was brewing a certain potion that he'd found in the text of the Sorcery book. The potion itself was nothing too difficult, only needing a couple of strange ingredients but nothing he hadn't ever handled before. In fact, the potion itself probably wouldn't have even ranked as a Third Year exercise. But it was what it was capable of doing to a Wizard that made it so unique. If the text was correct, the potion could forcefully open a Wizard's many magical pressure points, a vital first step to learning to how to absorb ambient magic. The text didn't imply that the process was painful, only disorienting the first time it was used. And it had to be taken on a weekly basis for about a month before the magical pressure points of the Wizard's body would finally adjust to remaining open. Thankfully, the potion had a shelf-life of six months before it deteriorated and became worthless.

Completing the strange potion took less than ten minutes of careful brewing and before he knew it, Harry was already ladling the potion into several preservative vials. Taking the last ladle's worth of potion, he carefully filled the tin goblet with it. Setting aside his equipment and storing the potion vials in one of the desks that remained in the room, he walked over to where the goblet sat and picked it up, again rereading the section in the text about the potion's properties and how the 'first touch' was supposed to feel.

Sighing to himself, Harry looked down at the goblet for a moment with indecision. Did he really wanna do this? Why did he want to this? What was so important about this obscure branch of magic that he felt so compelled to learn it? These questions and more filled his mind for several long minutes, echoing and bouncing off one another. His indecision caused him to falter, stop and rethink everything.

"I want to be strong," Harry said to himself, trying to reassure himself. "If I'm not strong, I can't protect anyone. If I keep playing by Voldemort's rules, I'll never beat him. We're playing a game, and he's already got decades more experience at it than I do. I need an advantage, and my lightsaber won't be enough help to fight him…not by itself." Sighing again, he quickly brought the goblet to his lips and drank it before he could change his mind again.

Once the goblet was emptied, Harry set it back on the desk by the book. He took a few cautious steps backwards before settling himself on the ground, sitting cross-legged as he waited for the potion to work its magic. '_Concentrate on your breathing_,' the text said. '_Focus on drawing in and pushing out_.' As he was doing so, he could feel his body start to…tingle. It felt like little strands of fine silk were brushing over his skin, all across his body. '_Concentrate on breathing_.' And then little pinpricks of pain began occurring, like someone was pricking with him needles all over. Although not entirely painful, it was an unpleasant experience all the same as it began spreading. '_Breathe in_.' He took a breath and suddenly everything changed.

In a moment of time, Harry found himself utterly unable to move, like he had simply been frozen in time. He instinctively tried to fight against whatever it was that was forcing itself inside of him and trying to corrupt who and what he was. But the battle was over before it even started. The invading force was simply too overwhelming, too powerful, too forceful for him to possibly have any hope of repelling away from. In that moment of time, he stopped struggling, giving up and awaiting the inevitable to occur. In that moment of time, his magic completely dropped away.

In that moment in time, Harry felt the flickering candle's flame of hope he had kept throughout his journey of the past few months snuff itself out. Hope that he could somehow manage to survive, to win, that he could defeat Voldemort once and for all, that he could manage to truly bond with his long-estranged cousin after 14 years of strained and bad relations. In that moment of time in which time seemed to slow and stretch on into infinity, Harry felt a part of himself collapse in on itself. Like a star with all of its fire snuffed out, it faltered and caved in on itself.

Then, when he had almost let his hope slip away like a breeze through his fingers, the next moment of time slammed into him with the force of a star going nova. In that next infinitesimally short yet monumentally tangible moment in time, Harry felt something occur within himself that his mind could not truly grasp or explain yet was unquestionably real. It was like the crack of a shattering crystal, or the flash of light from a camera. It happened so fast he almost didn't catch the moment of change, yet he would never be able to forget what happened. In that moment of time, Harry could 'collapse' no further. Like a nuclear bomb at critical mass, it released the energy it could no longer contain.

And, suddenly, he was gone. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the estranged Wizarding hero, the boy with the largest target on his back for Voldemort and his followers, was suddenly no more. In his place, a new boy was born. Harry Potter had finally awakened to a new power that he had never known before, and yet somehow was so intimately familiar with.

* * *

Norway

The frigid forests of the far northern lands were usually thawed by this time of year. Summers were very short, but there was generally a bit of greenery to be seen in the absolutely breathtaking beauty of the lands. Yet, in this small, remote portion of the peninsula, winter held an eternal grip upon the lands. Snow was only lightly layered on the ground and trees, but it was still very much present. As the elderly man who was fell upon it face-first knew firsthand.

He had a shaven head and an ageless face, making it extremely difficult to determine whether he was in his early twenties or late sixties. But his dark eyes held a vast swath of experience in them as he rolled himself over and looked up at the one who'd caused him to collapse in the snow in the first place.

The figure was dressed in a black robe, with a metallic chest plate and broad pads on his shoulders. A ragged cloak hung under his armor and helped insulate the being from the cold. The being's face was hidden under a deep hood, shrouded in shadows. Held at his waist casually in one hand was a broad sword, sharpened to absolute perfection and its blade was glowing an ominous and unnatural blood-red aura, as was the blood gem that was locked in the sword's pommel stone.

"My answer is still no," the fallen man declared, utterly unconcerned about the armored figure who loomed threateningly over him. "Now, return to your master, _slave_."

"That is your final answer?" the armored figure demanded coldly, ignoring the man's jibe.

The fallen man merely nodded as he pulled himself up to his knees.

"Very well." The blazing red sword jabbed forward, burying itself into the fallen man's chest, straight through his heart. The man barely had time to look surprised at the suddenness of the unexpected attack before the blade was extracted and he toppled over onto his side, dead. With a casual flick of his wrist, the armored figure swept the corpse's blood from the blade and then smoothly sheathed the broad sword.

As the armored figure was turning away, it glimpsed a hazy figure suddenly appear before two meters ahead of him, ghostly blue-white and partially transparent. Recognizing the being ahead of it, the figure instantly dropped to his knee, head bowed. "It is done, my master."

"_Truloc refused?_" the ghostly figure inquired, looking over its servant's shoulder to see the body sprawled on the ground. Turning back to his servant, the figure said, "_There has been an Awakening. Have you felt it_?"

"Yes, my master."

"_Journey to Great Britain_," the master ordered. "_And deal with this one. Be cautious. This one is…unusually strong_."

"It shall be done, my master."

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Heh, my muse is really working overtime for this story right now. Let's hope it keeps up for a while longer. I wonder how many of you can guess where I was inspired for this last scene of the chapter.


	4. Sorcery

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#04: Sorcery_

**September 10, 1995  
Upper Dungeons**

Euphoria.

That was the closest Harry could ever come to describing what he felt that first time. It was as if every pore and cell of his body had opened itself up to the magic of the universe. So much raw power was gushing through him that it felt like a tsunami, such was the magnitude that he was felt. It was exhilarating, empowering, and terrifying. The very air around him, the stone floor he sat upon, the castle around him, and many hundreds of creatures within that castle, he could 'see' them all without sight, hear them without his ears, smell and taste them. Each and every one of them shone brightly with an inner energy that stood out like lighthouses at sea or the streetlights of a city.

But he could also feel his 'senses' stretching beyond his workshop, beyond the castle, _far_ beyond. He could sense every gust of wind, every clap of thunder, the stamp of feet upon pavement, the rustle of clothing, he had been opened to the world. He _was_ the world, and the world was _him_. He could see the many shades of light and dark that covered the planet, those who had auras of brightest light and those of a much darker nature. Emotions and sensations of the many trillions of life forms that populated the planet, easily overwhelmed him. But, amidst the chaos and maelstrom of color, emotions, and feelings, he somehow managed to retain a small sense of his own identity, anchoring him and beckoning him back to his corporal body.

With a herculean effort of will, he pulled and separated himself from the world, returning back himself again. Opening his eyes and climbing to his feet, Harry lifted his hand clenched his fist, flexing his fingers. There was…strength coursing through him. Incredible strength. But not only that, energy, what felt like limitless energy. Moving to the door, he exited his secret workshop. After hurriedly locking and securing it, he turned and started walking down the hall.

Then his walk became a run.

Then his run became a sprint.

Rushing forward with a strength and speed he had never felt before, a wide and excited grin spread across Harry's face. He bounded down the stairs of the dungeon, three at a time, and kept on running. He navigated the maze of the dungeons with perfect ease, _knowing_ where he was going despite not being overly familiar with the layout. Any students that were in the hallway were smoothly dodged. Running up another stairwell, he emerged into the Potions classroom area, which had even more Slytherin students milling about. Seeing the lone red, running figure approaching their midst, the Slytherins quickly tried to block him, as though expecting him to have been trying to escape from them for some reason that demanded their immediate retaliation and revenge.

Harry's grin just widened. He felt so strong and fast that he felt he could just jump over the entire group. In fact, he would! Taking a small bounce as he neared them, Harry pumped a portion of the energy and strength he felt into his legs and just _leapt_. And what a leap it was! He easily sailed over the collective heads of the Slytherins, idly running his hand along the low ceiling of the dungeon hallway. Landing several paces behind the surprised and dumbfounded group, Harry couldn't resist letting out an ecstatic laugh of exhilaration as he resumed running. At the end of the short hallway, he found another set of stairs that he just jumped up as well, not touching a single step before he landed at the top.

Emerging into the Entrance Hall, he turned and resumed his running. Cutting through several hallways, he ran across the courtyard and the bridge beyond. Weaving his way with casual ease between students around the Transfiguration classrooms, he finally broke his way out of the castle and ran around the North Towers towards the Quidditch pitch. Up ahead was the outer curtain wall of the castle and Harry's grin widened even farther as he saw it. Finally, a challenge!

The wall must've been ten meters tall, but that didn't stop him from repeating what he'd tried earlier. Channeling his newfound power and strength into his legs again, he took a mighty leap as he neared the curtain wall, leaving behind a slightly indented crater from where he pushed off. The jump was so fast and high that Harry actually entertained the idea that he'd somehow taken flight without his Firebolt. But evidently he'd underestimated just how much power he'd used, he must've passed over the curtain wall by about ten meters.

Landing in a tumbling crouch on the opposite side, he again shot off like a rocket, heading straight for the Forbidden Forest. Pushing more power into his legs, Harry seemed to blur as his speed multiplied. He was sprinting so fast that a severe case of tunnel vision began to warp his eyesight. But he never lost sight of where he was going. He knew when to dodge a tree, skip over a jutting root, and jump over a fallen tree or branch.

He just…_knew_. After several minutes of this hyper-speed run, he came to a stop in a darkened clearing of the forest. His body throbbed and his legs burned from the extreme exertion that he'd just subjected them to, but he had never felt so _alive_ before! He felt…He felt like he could punch his bare fist through a ten-foot thick concrete wall, and not feel any pain!

Looking around the clearing, he saw that it was littered with a few boulders of various sizes and shapes, the ground was a dark black of decay, and the sky above was barely visible through the canopy. Moving over towards one of the closer boulders, Harry smiled as he extended his hands towards it. It was a physical representation of what he was doing with his newfound magic. Feeling the magics that were faintly imbued and reverberating from it, Harry grasped ahold of them and began trying to lift it. This act was not as simple as he first thought it would be, forcing him to focus more and more heavily upon what he was doing. His hands began to shake as the strain built up. But his efforts were not in vain as the boulder started to shake and tremble out of its resting spot, scattering dirt and foliage as it started to slowly rise half a meter out of the ground.

Cracking his eyes open, Harry grinned excitedly at his accomplishment. "Yes!"

But his concentration had faltered in that moment of elation and the boulder crashed back down to earth with a wet thumping noise. But he wasn't disappointed, look at what he'd done! If he could do it once, he could do it again!

* * *

**Great Hall**

It was several hours later that Harry finally left the Forbidden Forest. Though he had spent a great deal of the energy and adrenaline he'd felt from earlier, he still felt like he was a five-time Olympian star athlete. It wasn't that he had lost the power he'd gained after taking the potion, for he regained it with each simple breath he took. No, he had finally found a way of getting better accustomed to it and dealing with it. Thus the likelihood of him bouncing off the walls were…_slightly_ lower now.

He had returned to Hogwarts just as the lunch was being served and he eagerly dug into it. All around him, the whispers and stares had drastically increased in volume and consistency. He could _feel_ their curiosity, their disgust, their arrogant pride, and their simmering anger towards him. But he could no longer find it within himself to care. He was in too much of a good mood to let little things like that dampen it.

"There you are!" a familiar voice said as a mop of curly hair sat down across from him. "Where have been? Do you know what the Slytherins have been telling everyone? That you snuck into their dorms and tried to set a bunch of Dungbombs off in their beds!"

"Wow, that's almost creative," Harry said, not caring in the least. The Slytherins were simply being Slytherins, no way to stop that.

Hermione sent him a sharp look, one that he recognized. It basically demanded '_**Where**__ have you been? Tell me __**now**__!_' But more than that, he could sense her concern and disappointment towards him.

"I just went for a little run," he hedged, grinning slightly. "Don't worry, I'll tell you later. Hey, Ron."

Hermione blinked in surprise as Ron took a seat on the bench next to Harry. That, in and of itself, wasn't surprising. It was the fact that Harry hadn't even twitched in the boy's direction and still knew that he was there and preparing to sit down. How had he known Ron was there like that?

Ron didn't notice this as he happily started getting his own food. "I heard that you went and terrorized the Slytherins this morning. Good job, mate!" Harry just grinned distractedly into his food. "But is it true that you ran along the ceiling to get away from them when they caught you and tried to corner you?"

"Nope," Harry answered truthfully. "I jumped."

"What?" both his friends asked, staring at him with wide eyes and slightly full mouths of food.

"I jumped so high that I guess it looked like I was running on the ceiling," he explained with a grin. "I guess they saw it differently."

"I don't know, Harry," Neville said as he sat down next to Hermione. "I saw you as you were running through the Transfiguration halls. It sure looked like you were flying to me."

Harry just snorted but continued eating. "I'll explain it later."

"Does this have anything to do with what you were reading on the train?" Neville asked, quite interested and visibly earnest. "Can…Can I come too?"

Not seeing any reason to say no, Harry just shrugged. "Sure, no problem."

* * *

**Upper Dungeons  
Harry's workshop**

Harry had taken his three friends down to his new workshop. It had been tricky getting all of them under his Invisibility Cloak since they were all now much older and larger than they had been three years ago, but they'd managed. He was showing Hermione what his latest magical technology project was, or MagiTech as Ron had affectionately dubbed it. Needless to say that while she was definitely intrigued by the idea of somehow building a blaster rifle for Dudley, she didn't necessarily like that Harry and Dudley both actively planned to use it in a battle situation. Regardless, she was already peering through his preliminary designs and notes.

"Harry, what is all this?" Neville asked, looking quite bewildered at the setup of the place, particularly the sketch of his lightsaber that he'd left pinned up for motivation to himself. "I've never seen or heard of anything like this stuff before. And what's that?"

Chuckling, Harry pulled his lightsaber hilt out of his schoolbag, dug the emitter shroud out of his pocket, and clamped it into place. "This is some of the stuff I plan to use to kill Voldemort." And with that, he flicked his lightsaber on and handed it carefully to Neville to examine.

But Neville wasn't the only one enraptured by his saber. Through his connection to all things magical, Harry suddenly gained a profound new appreciation for the device he'd created. Once it'd become activated, the small fragment of himself that was nestled in the heart of the thing had filled the entire object with vibrant and pulsating magic. The magic danced and raced along the runes in its many pieces, protecting and enhancing them. The gem itself seemed to resonate with his soul, showing to the world the beauty and tranquility that he held within himself. The blade was merely an extension and representation of that beautiful soul and how he intended to use his influence on the rest of the world, to make it a better and safer place. Yes, this lightsaber was and would always be his single greatest creation ever.

"That reminds me, Harry," Hermione said, looking away from his notes to glance over at the saber blade that Neville was still gawking at. "You still haven't told me how to make my own lightsaber."

"Sorry, it's been a busy week for all of us," Harry pointed out. Then he turned and pointed towards his lightsaber sketch pinned just above where she was standing. "All the relevant notes should be on the back of that." Hermione took down the drawing, studying it for a few long moments before flipping it over and reading the tiny scrawled writing that lay there.

"Harry," Ron said, a sudden burst of fear and confusion radiating from him and his voice, catching everyone's attention. "Is this what I think it is?"

Taking his lightsaber back from Neville, Harry moved over to the corner Ron was standing in. He found Ron looking over his book on Sorcery. "Oh, I forgot about that."

Ron turned sharply to look at Harry, a thunderous look on his face matching his sudden burst of anger. "_Is this a book on Sorcery?!_" For a moment, all three of the others were taken aback by Ron's unexpected outburst. While Ron losing his temper was not an uncommon occurrence, losing it on his friends most certainly _was_.

"Yes," Harry answered honestly, not seeing what the problem was. "I found it at Gr—at _you-know-where_ when I was showing you guys my saber the first time. Remember that bookshelf we found? It caught my interest, so I took it to read. Why?"

"You should've _burned_ this book, Harry!" Ron declared loudly. "Nothing good comes from Sorcery!"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Harry snapped, glaring slightly at Ron.

"The Darkest Arts, the worst of the worst of all Dark Wizards, have all been Sorcerers, Harry!" the redhead said loudly. "Once a Wizard starts learning Sorcery, they go Dark and crazy within the year!"

"How do you know all that?" Hermione asked, moving over and taking the book from Ron to read. "I've read about many different types of magic, but I've never heard of Sorcery before."

"Me neither," Neville admitted quietly, though none of the others paid him as much attention. It honestly wasn't as surprising that he didn't know about Sorcery. His overprotective grandmother and relatives likely shielded him from many of the darker and more dangerous parts of the world as he was growing up.

"That's because it's illegal to learn or teach," Ron answered, looking about as surprised as Harry that she hadn't heard of Sorcery before. "Right alongside the Statute of Secrecy, Sorcery is one of the highest and most illegal of all forms of magic to learn! I've even heard rumors that there's an ICW law enforcement branch whose job is to find and kill any new Sorcerers who appear before they can rise in power."

"How…?" Harry finally asked, struggling to keep his temper in check. To do this, he tried to focus on the calming influence that the ambient magic gave off when he was calm and passive. He was only somewhat successful in his attempt. "How do you know they go Dark?"

"Because that's what _always_ happens!" Ron said, glaring at Harry for questioning him on something so important. "Nobody knows how or why it happens! Some of the nicest and kindest people were completely corrupted and turned into butchers and murderers as soon as they started it."

"Do you think I'm going to go Dark just because I'm reading up on Sorcery?" Harry asked in a low tone. Something Ron had said sparked something in his mind, a memory so vague that he could only grasp the sheer profoundness of it but nothing more. The memory had something that spoke of anger and aggression. "That I'm going to become something worse than Voldemort that needs to be hunted and killed?"

There was a long moment of silence that stretched after that question as all eyes turned to a suddenly nervous Ron. But Ron did his best to not let the stares affect him and keep his gaze locked on Harry's. "You have been in a really bad mood ever since you came to…you-know-where this past summer," Ron said in an equally low tone. "You're my best mate and I don't like what's been happening to you lately."

In a burst of irrational anger, Harry moved forward and said, "If I'm being such a pain in the ass, at least have enough Gryffindor courage to tell me to my face when it's happening and not use something _else_ as a means to do it!"

"You're doing it right now!" Ron pointed out, which only increased Harry's anger all the more.

The temptation to throw Ron out of the room was _very_ powerful in that moment. To use his newfound Sorcery powers to telekinetically lift and throw the youngest Weasley boy across the room and through the door would've been _so_ satisfying! And the best part was that he knew he could do the act before the Weasley boy could even react to the unexpected attack. It was so tempting! But at the same time, another voice warred within himself against his irrational anger. Pointing out that Ron was one of his closest friends. That if he did do that to Ron, he might damage their friendship to irreparable levels. That Ron was only trying to look out for him in his own way, irritating as it may be at times.

For one long, eternal moment for Harry, indecision between the two equally powerful impulses held him teetering on an edge he never knew existed and barely understood the importance of.

With a loud growl of frustration, Harry turned, grabbing and donning his Invisibility Cloak as he left the room, ignoring his friends' call to return. He had some powerful frustrations to work off, and the Forbidden Forest seemed the best place to go to vent without anyone caring about the high amounts of damage he'd likely inflict.

* * *

**Forbidden Forest**

It was several hours later, the sky had already darkened greatly as evening set in sooner nowadays, and Harry finally came to rest, panting heavily with his arms hanging limply at his sides. All around him, the forest and ground were torn up, twisted, and broken. In some regards, saying that a bomb or a titanic battle had taken place here wouldn't have been too far of an exaggeration. Still, while his body was finally starting to feel exhaustion set in from the continuous and high demands he'd been putting it through, his mind was still very much active and his frustrations had hardly ebbed in the slightest. Raising his arms, he drew upon the magic once again.

A large log sailed through the air crashing upon a tree, breaking in several pieces. Two large stones were then lifted from the ground and flung at each other. The stones hit with such force that a loud explosion filled the air. Harry then spun around, thrusting his right hand forward. A powerful blast of telekinetic power shattered the bark on one of the ancient trees in the forest. Surprisingly, the tree managed to stay standing. Harry fell to his knees panting heavily. A new presence filled his senses and he lifted his head to see a being that he has not seen in a couple years.

"What do you want?" scowls Harry as he weakly rising to his feet. He internally winced at his own tone having let his frustrations at Ron's automatic assumptions out for Firenze the Centaur to see.

"I didn't expect us to meet so soon Harry Potter. I must have misread the stars."

"Yeah, well, it seems we are all misreading situations," grumbled Harry. "You still didn't answer my question."

Firenze's facial expression gained a hint of amusement. "I do not want anything. I merely came to see what the commotion is. I did not expect to find you."

Harry plopped down on a nearby log, one of the few that hadn't been pulverized by his ever-growing powers. "It's just me. Feel free to go now." He wasn't sure what was causing his rather caustic attitude at this point. Blaming his frustration towards Ron only went so far as he waved his hand dismissively.

"I do not want more of this beloved forest to be destroyed so I will attempt to help with your problems," states Firenze. The centaur trotted over to Harry. "What is the matter?"

A flat stone rose into the air, and with a negligent twirl of his wrist, Harry began spinning it over his hand, then with an equally uncaring flick of his wrist, it went careening blindly into the forest, imbedding itself into a nearby tree. Harry then ran a hand through his hair. "My friend, Ron, wants me to stop learning this new magic. It's really amazing and could definitely help me when I fight against Voldemort, but he keeps saying that it'll corrupt me." He scowled in anger. "He hasn't learned or seen what I have! He hasn't experienced it for himself and yet he's so quick to judge me without having all the facts!"

"Perhaps, but there is truth in both your points of view."

"He's hardly one to talk! He's just jealous that he isn't the famous one that worshipped and demonized by the Wizarding World!" Harry clenched his hand into a fist. His anger at the situation quickly rose as he recalled the incident that had started the troubles between him and his male best friend. Unnoticed by Harry, Firenze took a few cautionary steps back as small pebbles and dead leaves began to rise from the ground and encircle the would be Wizarding Boy Hero. "I say if he wants to be the hero so _badly_…"

More and more bitterness crept into his tone as he spoke- a barely noticeable faint corona of pure magic appearing.

"**_LET HIM!_**"

The magical build up inside of him reached its apex, desperately seeking its own release. As he shouted out that last bit, a surge of power exploded with him at the epicenter. Miraculously, Firenze maintained his vertical base, but only just barely.

However, the magic being expelled was more primal than a simple shock wave, there was a tinge of elemental magic mixed in as jagged bolts of uncontrolled arcs of lightning were flung from his now outstretched hands, cackling as they tore through the air, searing the landscape around him.

When they struck the closest trees in their path, the lightning superheated the resin and water within the trees, causing them to explode upon impact. Instinctively, Harry hurried shielded his face with his arms and pulled on his magic wrapping it around him and his long time friendly acquaintance, shielding them from the worst of the wooden shrapnel.

A moment of silence filled the forest, as Harry looked on in shock and awe at what had transpired. He didn't want to even glance at Firenze – he wasn't sure what would be worse on the centaur's face – fear, anger or disappointment.

"Perhaps there is some justification to his worry," Firenze said, breaking the silence.

"I… I didn't mean… I…"

"Tell me, Harry Potter, do you know what magic _truly_ is?" Firenze asked as Harry chanced a glance at him. Firenze was looking to the stars above.

Not trusting himself to speak, he simply shook his head. Firenze must have sensed that he did as the centaur did not once break his gaze from the stars to look at Harry. "Magic is the result of our desires combining with our beliefs – willpower mixed with intent. It is our desire to perform an action and our belief that we can accomplish our set task. But willpower and intent, while necessary, are not sufficient. For magic to work properly, one must be a master of their own whims and desires to achieve balance or else uncontrolled, unintentional outbursts or backlashes may occur."

"Accidental magic," Harry said, though whether to himself or to the centaur expanding his knowledge base even he was unsure.

"Yes." The centaur acknowledged. "However, our emotions play a huge role in magic as well. Rage, avarice, fear, will, hope, compassion, love… In any situation these emotions can either boost or hinder our power and control. Controlling your emotions, finding balance within yourself, allows you greater control over your own power, lest it controls you. Losing control, even for a short while, can force you to do things you normally wouldn't or shouldn't do and can lead to your destruction."

"For once you start down that dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny…" Harry whispered. Firenze looked to Harry with a raised eyebrow at his quote, though he did not ask about it. Meanwhile, through the mysterious connections that the human brain is capable of achieving, Harry was suddenly struck by the full remembrance of a memory that had teased his mind back in his workshop, that of a simple quote. He wasn't sure when he had read it, but he'd come across it in the _Empire Strikes Back_ novelization and now it made a great deal more sense to him. _'Anger, fear, aggression, the dark side are they. Easily they flow. Quick to join in a fight. Beware of them_.'

It was that line that also removed all doubt, leaving him with a simple truth that George Lucas was a sorcerer or at least knew of them. He knew them, and quite well it seemed, as he seemed to preach the dangers of allowing negative emotions to guide and control one's actions. Star Wars had a myriad of secret messages for all prospective Sorcerers.

"I understand…" Harry said after another brief moment of silence.

"Go back to your friend, Harry Potter," Firenze suggested. "Understand and be understood. The stars show troubling times ahead. Now is not the time to push those you would call family away."

Harry stared at Firenze for a moment. "Thank you, Firenze."

Firenze smiled at him. "If you need further aid, I am always available. I have the feeling you, one day, might be able to read the stars as well."

"I don't know about that," smiles Harry. "But anything is possible. Thanks again."

"It is my pleasure, Harry Potter."

* * *

(**Author's Note**) And out comes another chapter! Tremendous thanks to **M2J MandalorianJedi** and **Fiori75** for helping me refine this disaster of a chapter!

We see just a bit of Harry's potential and power in Sorcery, some of its more basic abilities, as well as the inherent dangers of possessing so much raw power. Oh, and in case some of you are wondering, Harry's erratic emotional state is not entirely his own fault. Remember, in canon, he was getting constantly but unknowingly influenced by Voldemort. Now that he had been fully revived and regained his power, some of it is rubbing off on Harry. So, Harry has to struggle even harder to contain now only his own anger issues, but the echoes of Voldemort's that he receives through his scar.

For those who were wondering, it was the _Force Awakens_ teaser that came out recently that inspired the last scene of the previous chapter.


	5. A Lurking Menace

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#05: A Lurking Menace_

The trio had expected to have to comb Hermione's Daily Prophet carefully next morning to find the article Percy had mentioned in his letter back on Saturday. However, the departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug when Hermione let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline:

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM  
DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER 'HIGH INQUISITOR'

"High Inquisitor? What does _that_ mean?" Harry asked darkly, his half-eaten bit of toast slipping from his fingers. Hermione read them the article in a low tone, only pausing briefly when one of the boys made a comment. Needless to say, Harry was far from thrilled with the sudden tremendous power boost the horrible professor had been granted. He knew that this was just the beginning of a long and highly-unpleasant series of unfortunate events and that his fledging attempts at controlling his raging temper were going to be sorely tested in the coming days.

Though he thankfully didn't have too many classes that she attended to 'evaluate' the teachers of Hogwarts, Harry still had to endure her dark and slimy presence much too often. If ever he had doubted that she was Dark Witch with a heart of absolute blackness to match Voldemort's, those doubts were thoroughly disabused and silenced forever. Through his powerful new sensory skills, he could tell what she was feeling and her very aura was laden with all of the darkest emotions a human could feel. The most prominent of her emotions was, ironically enough, envy. Whenever someone, be they student or faculty, did, said, or had something, she was struck by a jolt of green eyed envy. Depending on the strength of that envy, she would lash out in varying levels of sadistic, cruel treatment or words.

Had Harry not come to the stark realization of just how dangerous it now was for him to lose control, he knew that Umbridge probably wouldn't have survived their second class together.

* * *

**September 16, 1995  
Gryffindor Common Room**

After yet another long week of painful detentions, losing points, struggling to keep up with the ridiculous amounts of homework, and barely managing to keep his darker impulses in check, Harry could honestly say that he was looking forward to the weekend with great anticipation.

However, his weekend started off not with a long and comfortable sleep-in to enjoy the simple fact that there were no classes today. No, he woke up at nearly the crack of dawn to a sudden and powerful pain in his body. It felt like his skin was on fire, his muscles throbbed and were in absolute agony, his blood felt like lava as it pumped through his body. But the absolute worst part of all was that he could literally feel himself weakening, his connection to the ambient magic fading as the power was no longer able to enter his body.

'_The potion's wearing off!_' he realized in agony. Struggling to get his protesting body to work, he pushed himself out of his bed and to his feet. He didn't even try to change out of his night clothes, merely grabbing his Invisibility Cloak and schoolbag, draping both of them over his body and feebly making his way down to his workshop. The journey was long, slow, and excruciatingly painful. He had to take no less than seven stops in order to give his body a chance to rest and regain his lost breath. If there was one positive thing about the whole situation, it was that it occurred in the morning, before many other students or professors were awake.

Finally reaching his workshop, he was only temporarily relieved to find it untouched. By this point, he was crawling upon the floor on his hands and knees, barely able to keep moving forward. But with his goal in sight now, he found he could push aside his pain more easily as he focused on reaching it. Making his way over to the desk he stored his potion samples in, Harry hurriedly uncorked one of them and drank it as though his life depended on it.

Unlike the last time where he could feel each of his pressure points opening like pinpricks in his body, he didn't anything for several long, agonizing moments. And then, with all the subtlety of a dam bursting apart, the ambient magic came flooding back into his system. The relief was like being welcomed into a warm room after traveling through a freezing blizzard for five hours. The heat was present, but the body was still too numb to fully appreciate it. Then, as the minutes slowly dragged on and the body's temperature rose back to its normal levels, the person became more and more aware of how _cold_ they'd been and just how rejuvenating the return to warmth truly was.

Letting out a long, relieved sigh as he felt the last dregs of pain fading away, Harry muttered, "Is that what it's like going through withdrawal? No wonder all those drug addicts never try to quit."

Pushing himself off the floor from where he'd been laying, Harry grabbed the empty vial and set it atop the desk. Turning around, he looked over at his bulletin board and felt a small smile tug at his lips. In the past week, he had made some great and very unexpectedly fast progress in building his first prototype blaster rifle. Admittedly, once she was able to peel herself away from not only her homework but her own experiments in building a lightsaber, Hermione had been her usual self and made some super-efficient deductions on his initial plans, refining the ideas that could work and flat-out rejecting ones that she felt wouldn't. She hacked off entire _weeks_ of failed experiments in just a few hours and Harry couldn't help slapping his forehead at his own stupidity every time he remembered it. If he'd had included her in his original lightsaber construction project, he probably would've had it finished in time for the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament!

Of course, it also helped that he was using a medium that he was intimately familiar with. The plasma potion he created and the focusing gem he developed for use in his lightsaber were proving to be even more versatile than he first thought. By using a much more generic crystal, rather than the deeply magically-imbued gems that the original recipe called for, the crystals could now theoretically be used by everyone, including Muggles. Though, Harry knew that the crystals wouldn't possess the same power output or lethality if they were used in a lightsaber. The crystals had mere 'slivers' of magic in them, whereas the gems were saturated with the magic of their creators. Regardless of that, they still fulfilled their function with remarkable aptitude, emitting a brief high-intensity light beam that shot into the potion mixture to create a small burst of magically-charged plasma. All he had to do now was fit it into the rifle assembly and make sure it worked as he hoped it was supposed to.

Glancing down at his pajamas that he was still dressed in, a slight grin crossed his face. "After I get dressed."

* * *

"—so the heat containment runes in the crystal chamber, plasma potion, and emitter shroud are extremely important," Harry said in an even voice. He was mostly speaking robotically, quoting information he'd memorized through experimentation, while he focused most of his attention on applying such runes to what would become the rifle's firing chamber. "If not done right…"

"It'll either explode or melt in your hand," Hermione answered, both enraptured by what she was learning and horrified at the possibility of what could happen if she placed the runes incorrectly.

Hermione was doing much the same as Harry, only paying partial attention to what he was saying as she kept her mind latched onto the intricate process that she was doing. That being stirring a delicate mixture in the very rare and expensive stone cauldron. The material inside was less of a liquid now and more of a gelatinous green mass. Holding her wand over the cauldron and using it as a type of ladle, she was stirring the gelatin with slow, steady, and carefully smooth strokes, pumping a gentle stream of her magic into the mixture as she did so. She had been doing this for the better part of an hour now, watching the potion with great interest as it transformed from its original white-opaque color into its present green color.

"Harry, how much longer until its ready?" she asked when Harry stopped his explanation, becoming distracted when something unexpected happened on his own project.

Glancing at his watch and comparing the time, he smiled. "About another minute or two, actually. The potion should be starting to resist you, that means it's starting to solidify. When it's completely hardened, Vanish the potion. Don't worry, the gem will remain."

"How did you ever come up with this potion?" she wondered aloud, just now noticing that he was correct. The potion was starting to resist her magic's stirring it and the surface was hardening.

"Honestly? I don't remember," Harry admitted. "I was trying to cope with my bad mood last year because of the Tournament and just started putting some random stuff together. When it turned rock hard, I thought it was a failure and tried to get rid of it, and lo and behold what I found afterwards."

"Bloody hell, mate," Ron said from where he was trying to help them by mixing up a batch of Harry's plasma potion. "When did you get so good at Potions?! What would Snape think if he knew?"

" '_50 points_ from Gryffindor for creating a _new_ _potion_ without my _expressed permission_, Mr. _Potter_,' " Harry said, trying (and failing) to imitate Snape's drawling voice. His comment drew quick, if somewhat reluctant, snorts of amusement from his friends as they both knew that Harry's mocking reply had a very firm foundation of possibility.

Taking a quick moment, Ron glanced over at his best friend. After their minor 'falling out' the previous weekend and letting Harry vent his obvious anger, the Gryffindor idol had come back and humbly apologized for losing his temper again. Though he tried to explain that he wasn't going to let himself fall to the Dark, Ron had purposely steered the conversation away from that awkward and unhappy topic. If Harry's temper had such a hair-trigger these days, then Ron just wanted to avoid the subjects that caused it entirely and try to go about their days as they normally did. Truth be told, Ron had been carefully watching Harry's reactions and newfound strange habits closely all week. What he saw was both relieving and concerning for the same reasons. Harry's temper still remained fairly close to the surface, but it almost always seemed closer to breaking loose whenever they had to endure Umbridge's presence or the Slytherins (particularly Malfoy). Other than those relatively few instances, Harry was doing a remarkable job of reining in his anger. But that is also what concerned Ron since he knew whenever he did that, the inevitable explosion would be all-the-more powerful as a result.

"Pay attention, Ron," Harry called over, not looking up from his work. "That potion's nearly finished and ready for storage."

Blinking in surprise, Ron quickly looked down at his potion and saw that Harry was correct. As he hurriedly collected the different vials for storing the plasma potion, he couldn't help asking, "How could you tell? You haven't even looked over here or been paying attention, mate!"

"It's my Sorcery," Harry said, making a good show of pretending not to notice Ron's flinch at the reminder. "It gives me a _ridiculously_ high awareness of everything around me, especially if it's magical. I can _sense_ that the potion is reaching its stable state and is ready."

"That's…convenient," Ron admitted reluctantly. If he could've had such a power when he was younger… No, it was better not to think like that. Shaking the wandering thoughts from his head, he quickly ladled the plasma potion.

Meanwhile, Hermione eagerly waved her wand and vanished the contents of her cauldron. The rock-like substance that had filled it disappeared in an instant. And there it was, glowing up at her from the very bottom of the cauldron. Her very own gem to be used as the focus in her lightsaber. Reaching inside the cauldron, Hermione gingerly touched the gem. A small electric jolt shot up her arm when her finger brushed its surface, but other than that, nothing untoward happened. Gently lifting it out, Hermione stared in deep awe at the beautiful gem she held between her fingers. It was barely the size of her pinkie's fingernail, and yet it felt so…powerful and deeply familiar. Her rational mind told her that of course it was familiar, since her own magical essence had gone into creating it. But just the same, the irrational part of her mind just felt that it had finally gained something it had been searching her entire life for.

"It's green," Ron commented, breaking Hermione from her slight trance. There was a very definite note of teasing in his voice as he said, "Please tell me that you're not going _Slytherin_ on us, Hermione."

"If she is," Harry said grinning, speaking before Hermione could properly rebuke Ron. "Then I'll have to get transferred to Ravenclaw."

"I think it's a _beautiful_ color," Hermione said, a note of finality in her voice, putting the gem safely into a robe pocket. This gem was representative of her very soul and she wouldn't have _anybody_ mocking it.

"I'm done," Harry declared, leaning back with a wide smile of pride on his face.

With a few waves of his wand, the various scattered pieces of shaped plastic, wood, and metal all jumped into the air, spinning and twirling as they assembled themselves from a random clutter into something that was very similar to a Berretta pistol. Moving over to Ron, Harry gently poured a small amount of the potion into one of the magazine clips and sealed it. Sliding the magazine into the pistol and locking it in place, he carefully aimed the pistol away from his friends and towards the far wall. Gently squeezing the trigger, Harry's grin widened as a bolt of blue-white energy shot out of the barrel with a soft popping noise. The energy bolt hit the wall, splattering very slightly on impact and leaving a darkened burn mark and hole on the stone with a small puff of smoke rising up.

"I'd say that's a successful first test," Harry said, looking over at his friends as he continued to smile. Hermione had a small smile of her own, but Ron looked a little hesitant before he returned the smile as well.

"Tell me again," Ron said. "Why we're making MagiTech weapons for your Muggle cousin who, if I'm not mistaken, wouldn't stand a chance in a fight against full-grown and trained Wizards?"

"MagiTech, really?" Hermione repeated, rolling her eyes. She _still_ couldn't believe Ron came up with such a silly name for the magical technology they were making, or that Harry actually _approved_ of the name!

"Because he's recently lost his parents to Dementors and he wants—_needs_—something to channel his anger against," Harry supplied. "If it's not against the one who sent them, then it's against the one who's responsible for putting the world in this state." Looking Ron carefully in the eye, he continued, "If _you_ were the only survivor of a Dementor attack, wouldn't _you_ want to arm yourself against those things so they can't hurt you _ever_ again also?"

Ron could only nod in agreement. "But still, isn't your cousin a complete prat?"

"People change," Harry said softly. He didn't know what Dudley was doing right now, but he knew that he was going to be a very different person the next time they met. Loss and pain had a tendency of changing people in various ways after all. '_I just hope 'Aunt Marge' doesn't get her teeth into him and make him back into what he was before all this started happening._'

"Actually," Hermione said, breaking off Harry's wandering thoughts. "Ron does have a point, Harry. If your cousin is serious about wanting to get involved in Wizarding business and fights, he's going to need a lot more than a few blaster rifles and pistols."

"What've you got in mind?" Harry asked as the boys looked over at her questioningly. They saw an all-too-familiar gleam of excitement in her eyes.

"If he gets caught in a Wizards' Duel, he'll need a lot of different kinds of firepower," Hermione explained, her slow smile starting to spread across her face. "A way of moving quickly around the battlefield, especially if the Wizards know how to Apparate. He'll need armor strong enough to endure or deflect attacks. And he'll probably want something to hide his identity as a Muggle so the Death Eaters can't hunt him down afterwards."

"I think I see where this is going," Harry said, a grin starting to spread across his own face now.

"Have I mentioned recently how much I hate being left out of the conversation?" Ron asked, annoyed. They had been speaking about and referencing numerous things that he didn't understand the context of a lot lately. Frankly, he was starting to get quite frustrated with it.

* * *

**September 18, 1996  
Gryffindor Common Room**

BY ORDER OF  
THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

All student houses and dorms are henceforth subject to random inspections by the High Inquisitor and the Inquisitorial Squad. The inspections are to ensure that no contraband items are present within school grounds that will affect the students' studying (_see the attached list for details_). Should any specified item be found, they will be immediately confiscated by the High Inquisitor and the student in question will serve a week of detention. Any repeat offenses will result in immediate expulsion from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The above is in accordance with  
Educational Decree Number Twenty-four

Signed:

Dolores Jane Umbridge  
HIGH INQUISITOR

_This_ was the unpleasant surprise that Harry, Ron, and Hermione came back to after they'd finished their classes of the day. And, after just a quick survey of the Common Room, it became painfully obvious that the Gryffindor House had already been 'inspected'. There was a large number of students from all years talking in worried, hurt, and angry voices over a large of things that were evidently missing from their dorm rooms after they'd returned.

In fact, there was a not-so-surprising amount of commotion coming from the Seventh Year dorm. Fred and George were practically seeing red in their rage at Umbridge's invasion and confiscation of their _massive_ amount of 'contraband', Harry didn't even need his newfound sensory powers to know _that_.

"How can she get away with this?!" Hermione hissed in mounting anger.

"It's not bad enough she can make our classes terrible," Ron said, more than agreeing with Hermione's sentiment. "But she now can invade our rooms whenever she wants?!"

Looking over at Harry, Ron blinked in surprise to find him missing. Turning to look up the stairs to their dorm room, he just barely glimpsed the tail end of Harry's robes as he turned the corner. Running up after him, Ron arrived at the dorm entrance just in hear Harry cry out. "_IT'S GONE! SHE TOOK IT!_"

Even without his Sorcery, there was unbridled fury and power that echoed through his words as he shouted that. Ron could almost feel it as the power seemed to pass around and through him, causing him to stumble backwards slightly.

"What's missing?" he asked cautiously as Harry started practically throwing his stuff around without a care of the mess he was making in his frantic search.

"My Invisibility Cloak!" Harry cried out, looking extremely distressed as the silvery material continued to remain unfound. "She took my father's Invisibility Cloak!"

Now Ron fully understood Harry's rage and distress. The Invisibility Cloak was one of the extremely few possessions he had of his family. If it were the case for Ron, he'd probably have been handling it even worse.

"_THAT BLOODY __**WITCH**__ IS SO __**DEAD!**_" Scratch that, he was taking it just as badly as Ron would have. In a blur of motion, Harry shot past his redhead friend to no doubt confront the toad-face witch. After a moment of being torn between going after or stopping Harry, Ron noticed that there were some things of his own that were missing from his bedside table and instantly rushed forward to account the stolen possessions.

* * *

Needless to say, Harry and many of the other students didn't get their stolen supplies and keepsakes returned to them. If any professor had ever tried to keep a tally of how many detentions were handed out in a certain time frame, much less a single day, Umbridge would've most definitely taken the record by a _massive_ margin. The High Inquisitor passed out her detentions with little to no warning when she was confronted by a student asking or demanding their stuff returned to them. Despite the countless complaints to and mounting pressure from the Heads of House, the High Inquisitor remained completely resolute and unfazed by her sudden drop in what little popularity she'd garnered. Harry even had a strong suspicion that the ugly toad was actually _enjoying_ all the complaints and rage she was causing among the students and professors. But it wasn't only that that seriously tested his temper in the coming days.

With his heightened sensory skills, he could quite literally sense Professor Umbridge's slimy, black aura. And while normally it was confined to her classroom and wherever she was during school hours, he could occasionally sense her following him. The first time this had happened, he had very casually glanced back down the hall as if he was watching a passing student, but the hallway was empty behind him. But while his eyes may have been fooled, his senses certainly weren't and he knew that she was there.

Professor Umbridge was using his own Invisibility Cloak to follow him around school!

This realization caused a great deal of questions and accusations to spring up. When he shared this fact with Hermione and Ron, they both agreed that she was probably following him in hopes of finding some blackmail material on him so she could expel him or something of equally bad nature. Harry had to spend the next hour out in the Forbidden Forest venting his frustrations and anger after that revelation.

The only bright spots of the week were that Umbridge hadn't found his book of Sorcery, which he had kept hidden in his schoolbag, or his lightsaber that he now wore under his school robe at all times. His workshop in the dungeons, though slightly harder to reach without his Invisibility Cloak, became one of his few havens in the school. He quickly dedicated much of his attention to his newest project of creating new types of weaponry for Dudley to use. Of course, he usually had to take a much more roundabout route to reach his workshop on the days that he could sense Umbridge following him in an effort to lose her, which was actually quite easy since she apparently didn't know Hogwarts' layout as well as the students did.

For the new weapons, he decided to start simple and make a variety of grenades. He quickly was able to make three different types using different potions and charms; an electrical pulse discharge for shocking and paralyzing, a type of compressed adhesive for immobilizing, and the classic explosive using magical flames that could resist water and other forms of nonmagical fire suppression. He created these three types in less than a week of dedicated research and experiments, he was _that_ enthralled by his work. That's not to say that he was working alone on these projects either.

Hermione had gotten it into her head that she was the best qualified to create the more complex and delicate parts of the project. She had taken over the creation of the helmet and jetpack, while trying to incorporate a variety of 'computer systems' into them that would link the two together. So far, she wasn't making much progress on that front, even though the basic helmet shape and design were long finished. And Ron actually surprised himself by having more fun in his own project that he originally thought he would. He was working on building a set of gauntlets that were bristling with different weapons, including a miniature flamethrower and a zip-line with a grappling hook launcher on one gauntlet and was trying to build in a wrist blaster into the second one. Compared to Hermione's much more complex one, Ron was making great progress on this.

It was truly amazing just how quickly he could make new MagiTech when he had some helpers backing him up.

* * *

**September 28, 1996  
Gryffindor Common Room**

It was nearly midnight and the trio was lounging in front of the burning fire of the Common Room. Things had quieted down a fair deal since Umbridge's invasion on Monday, but many of the students were now openly investing in increasingly powerful locking charms and secret compartments to store their now 'contraband' items.

Though Harry wasn't entirely sure how they managed to reacquire so much of their 'non-school related' contraband like that multi-colored quill ink, Butterbeer, and other miscellaneous items. He suspected that Fred and George were on the rise as smugglers, all but ransacking the various shops of Hogsmeade so that they could make a profit and restart their research again.

"She's an awful woman," Hermione was saying. "_Awful_. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in…we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," Ron said grimly.

"No…I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is and how we're going to learn any defense from her at all," Hermione clarified.

"Well, what can we do about that?" Ron yawned. "'S too late, isn't it? She got the job, she's here to stay, Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well," Hermione began tentatively. "You know, I was thinking today…" She shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and then plunged on. "I was thinking that—maybe the time's come when we should just—just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" Harry asked, suspiciously. He glanced up from gazing at his bleeding hand. He had been experimenting with a new way of using his Sorcery, trying to use it to heal his hand from Umbridge's Blood Quill detention torture. Either he wasn't very skilled with that type of magic, or the magic of the Blood Quill was interfering with his meager attempts.

"Well…learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves," Hermione said.

"Come off it," Ron groaned. "You want us to do even more extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again it's only the third week? Granted, doing that stuff in the Workshop isn't helping matters, but still."

"This is much more important than homework!" Hermione declared passionately.

Harry and Ron both openly goggled at her. Speaking for both of them, Ron said, "I didn't think there was anything more important in the _universe_ than homework."

"Don't be silly, of course there is!"

And thus Hermione began her sales pitch, trying to entice Harry and Ron over to her way of thinking. The sad fact of the matter was that she was correct on many of the reasons, even Harry could agree with many of her points. She easily swayed Ron over to her side, but Harry bluntly refused. He didn't want to waste his time teaching to the students of the school how to defend themselves. It might have been selfish of him, but he was far more interested in not only exploring his growing Sorcery powers but also developing new MagiTech. He hadn't been this passionate about a project since…his Third Year's Quidditch training? Yeah, that sounded about right.

But he knew that that wouldn't stop Hermione. She was already set in her course of creating a new, student-run Defense class. Harry just wasn't sure if he would support and be a part of it or not.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Merry Christmas! I hope this chapter finds you all well and merry for the holidays! If you'd be so kind, I'd like to ask that you give me a Christmas present in the form of a review for this chapter. That's all I ask. Happy Holidays and look forward to the next chapter. Things _REALLY_ start to change after that one!

PS: There's a new poll up on my homepage here that deals with this story. Could you guys please check it out? I'm very interested in your opinions on it since it will play a role in the future of this story. Thank you!


	6. The Ministry Strikes

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#06: The Ministry Strikes_

**October 7, 1995  
Hog's Head, Hogsmeade**

"So who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his Butterbeer and taking a swig.

"Just a couple of people," Hermione repeated, checking her watch and then anxiously towards the door. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is—oh, look, this might be them now—"

He felt the jumbled assortment of familiar presences gathering around the entrance for a few moments before they gathered their courage and entered. The door of the pub opened, letting in a thick band of dusty sunlight to split the room in two for a moment and then vanish, blocked by the oncoming crowd rushing inside. Among the crowd, Harry recognized quite a few faces. Neville, Dean, Lavender, Parvati, Padma, Cho (Harry tried _not_ to stare at her too closely or for too long), one of Cho's usually giggling girlfriends, Luna Lovegood, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillian, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff girl with plaited hair he didn't remember, three Ravenclaw boys he was sure were Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot. Then came Ginny, followed by a tall, blonde boy, and lastly there were Fred, George, and Lee Jordan (all of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed to bursting with Zonko's merchandise).

"A couple of people?" Harry whispered hoarsely to Hermione. "_A couple of people?_"

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," Hermione said happily, though he could sense her very well-hidden unease and restlessness due to his almost-angry stare. And thus, after a few minutes for the people to settle in and get some butterbeers from the quite unhappy bartender, the meeting began. Despite the fact that Hermione's calling card for the meeting had been about organizing a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts club, it soon became obvious to Harry that the majority of the people present or at least a good third of them had only come because they wanted to hear the story of Voldemort's rebirth and/or Cedric's death from his own mouth.

And while that did bother him to a degree, the part that really irritated him was that he could _feel_ Cho's interest in the conversation spike substantially whenever that particular issue came up. It made him feel suddenly very foolish and somewhat angry at her as it explained a great deal about her behavior towards him since this school year had started. The passing glances she'd shot at him, the occasional greetings, bumping into each other and the fumbling attempts at a conversation between them. She hadn't been wanting to actually speak with or get to know him, just wanting to speak about what had happened to her boyfriend several months ago. This realization had followed shortly after the revelation of just why the students had even attended the meeting, leaving him feeling bitter and angry.

"Look," Hermione was saying. "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—"

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry interrupted, closing his eyes and repeating an increasingly familiar mantra in his head. '_Breathe in, breathe out. Take in the __**peace**__, expel the __**anger**__. I'm no __**destroyer**__, I'm __**just**__ Harry._' Opening his eyes after just a moment of collecting himself and forcefully letting his anger go, he looked Zacharias Smith (the most outspoken of the group) straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me. And I'm not wasting a precious afternoon trying to convince anyone."

With that said, Harry stood up and left the Hog's Head, ignoring Hermione and the others' calls for him to stop and return. Perhaps it was childish of him, but he found he didn't really care anymore. He'd been telling people ever since it happened that Voldemort had come back, but each time they ignored him, scorned him, or just looked at him like he was touched in the head. And frankly, he was sick and tired of trying to justify himself to those types of people. Beyond that, he found that working on and building his MagiTech weapons for Dudley was giving him a great outlet to focus on and vent some of his frustrations.

If Hermione wanted to found a Defense club, then by all means let her. But he wasn't going to waste his time in it if all he could expect were a bunch of kids trying to get him to tell them about what they felt basically amounted to little more than campfire ghost story. Such a club would no doubt steal away what little time he had for his MagiTech and Sorcery training, so that was just another reason to not attend.

Did this make him a bad person to put his own training and desires ahead of others and not want to participate with his friends? Maybe, maybe not. And frankly, just like with his earlier decision, he just didn't care anymore. To them, the Defense lessons were little more than a bad joke that would result in them failing their end of the year exams. To Harry, the Defense lessons were now a critical part of his life and if he wasn't allowed to practice them anymore, then he'd just dedicate more time and effort to his own secret projects as a means of combating Voldemort and the Minister's vile and spiteful Hogwarts attack dog.

As he was making his way back up to the castle, having lost any desire to remain in the magical village, he sensed a familiar presence rushing towards him. No, correction, make that falling towards him. Spinning around, Harry spotted a familiar beautiful white snow owl in the air. One of her wings seemed to be disjointed and she was having obvious trouble remaining in the air. That spoke little of the actual _pain_ he could sense emanating from her.

With no conscious thought to his actions, Harry reached out his arm towards her, using his Sorcery to gently take hold of her. Using all of his self-control, he gently pulled her out of the sky, keeping her injured wing locked in position so that she could jostle and further injure herself. However, that appeared to be unneeded as she seemed to recognize that he had taken hold of her and she didn't try to resist him in the least as he brought down to land gently upon his upraised arm.

"Are you okay, Hedwig?" he asked, very concerned for his beloved familiar. Hedwig just hooted dolefully as she ruffled her feathers. With great care, Harry pulled the letter from her leg. Eyes glued to her injured wing, Harry cautiously reached his hand up as if to touch her wing. When he sensed the spike of fear and pain from the owl as she hooted at him reproachfully, he withdrew his hand slightly. "If you'll let me, I'm gonna try and heal your wing, girl. Please, trust me."

Staring at him with her unblinking gaze, Hedwig finally turned her head away and shuffled her injured wing towards him. Taking a deep breath, Harry gently reached toward and laid his hand upon it. Focusing his magic upon her small form, Harry gently eased 'inside' of her. As his magic filled her up, he became starkly aware of everything about her. But he focused his attention towards her injury. In his mind's eye, Harry could see that torn muscles, bleeding skin and feathers, and the fractured wing bone, all of it highlighted in a blazing red lines of fire that was laced throughout the area of her injury. Pushing his magic into that area, he focused it through her fresh and cells, rejuvenating and realigning them. After just a few moments of this, he felt her cells begin to respond to his presence, accelerating her natural healing process many times past its limit. Her muscles mended themselves back together, her fractured bone healed, and the slight dislocated shoulder popped back into place.

In the span of less than two minutes, Hedwig's injury was healed and the owl let out a loud ecstatic hoot of joy, flapping her wings about as she bounced excitedly on his arm. Harry just smiled at her happily, enjoying seeing her so happy. He petted her gently as she rubbed herself up against his cheek. Chuckling quietly, he held his arm out, "Go on, girl. Go rest up, you deserve it." Though somewhat reluctant, Hedwig did as asked and took flight for the Owlery. Digging out the note, Harry found it was written by Sirius, simply saying '_Today, same time, same place_'.

* * *

**Midnight  
Gryffindor Common Room**

The meeting with Sirius that night started off a bit rocky, not the least bit surprising. First, Harry had to deal with angry Hermione. It seemed that even though he walked out on the meeting, Hermione and Ron had still managed to talk the gathered group in creating the club. While they wouldn't have the 'experienced instructor' that Hermione had desired, she was still by far the most knowledgeable witch of their year and likely the whole school (excluding the professors of course). Hermione was especially angry to learn that he was going to be devoting more of his time to creating his MagiTech.

Thankfully, before the fight could start becoming something else that might've tested, dented, or even broken their friendship, Sirius had arrived. He passed on a warning to Ron from his mother to no get involved with their Defense club, on the grounds that he could potentially ruin his future. And then, Sirius quite happily did his usual 180 and loudly declared that he wholly supported the idea and that Harry should be the instructor (much to Hermione's _immense_ satisfaction).

"I'm not interested in teaching a bunch of kids what they should already know," Harry said, ignoring the trio's looks that essentially said '_but you're a kid too_'. "I want to keep making my MagiTech."

"Magi-what?" Sirius asked, cocking his head in confusion.

"Magical technology," Harry explained, smiling slightly when he saw and sensed the sudden spike of interest from his godfather. "Kind of like what Ron's dad did with his flying car, but much more 'combat oriented' as it were."

"Now that sounds like fun!" Sirius chirped, grinning widely. "You should tell me more about it when we ha—" He broke off. His face suddenly tense and alarmed as he looked off to the side, evidently seeing something that none of the others could. But Harry could also sense something wrong. It was almost like a hole had been torn into a bed sheet that he had been using to hide himself, or a break in the wall that allowed others to see and listen to what was going on.

"Sirius?" Harry asked anxiously.

But he had vanished. The trio only had a few seconds to wonder why before they saw the cause of his sudden departure. A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something. A stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings that all of them recognized quickly. As they hurried away from the fire, Harry kept facing the flames, glaring hatefully at the groping hand. Just before he closed the door to his dormitory, he reached out his hand towards the fire. Using his Sorcery, he 'changed' the green flames of the Floo. The end result was that while the green flames remained, they were more or less evenly distributed between the normal orange-red flames. An unearthly feminine shriek of pain echoed out of the fireplace as the hand and forearm were literally burned from the fires they had been stuck into.

Harry rested _very_ peacefully that night with the memory of Umbridge's shriek in his dreams.

* * *

**October 13, 1995  
DADA Classroom**

The past week had been one of considerable stress for many of the students. With the advent of the newest Educational Decree that banned all clubs, groups, teams, and so on, many of the students were scrambling to receive the High Inquisitor's acceptance to maintain or re-form their various club activities. It really came as no surprise to Harry since he knew she had discovered Hermione's attempt to create a Defense club and was quite obviously reading his mail. He wasn't entirely sure why she was so obsessed with ruining everyone's time and experience at Hogwarts, but it was plainly evident to him that she was using it as a cover to get at _him_. Following her attempt to catch Sirius the Saturday before, Harry had been unable to stop the very pleased grin on his face when he came to her class on Monday and saw her arm in bandages. Apparently, she correctly assumed he was the one responsible for her injury and promptly gave him another week-long detention later during class for 'not paying attention' and had started following him under his Invisibility Cloak every chance she had.

It had been nearly 5 o'clock and Harry was really starting to feel his patience beginning to snap. It had been flayed something fierce for the past two hours since he'd arrived for his detention at Umbridge's classroom. The only consolation he had was the fact that Umbridge seemed to have moved from her favored Blood Quill. Even though it was obvious she still wanted to use it on him, it was also equally obvious that she couldn't. His hand was simply too tender, too raw, too torn up to safely continue using the Quill, despite his meager attempts at self-healing. Any further use of it would run the risk of causing him to sever one of the arteries in his hand have him bleed to death, necessitating a visit to the infirmary or Wizarding hospital that would demand a lot of 'unpleasant' questions.

Instead, Umbridge had him writing out whole chapters of the Defense textbook. And she refused to let him leave until he finished the set of pages or text in its entirety. By this point, he was already working on the latter half of the book, writing out its last five chapters for perhaps the third time of the week. If he ever came across the man or woman who had written this text, Harry wasn't sure if he'd be able to contain his potent desire to bash their heads in with his bare fists. He loathed this textbook with such a fiery passion!

He had thought that this was the worst of what could happen, but evidently he was wrong. For just as he was finishing the last of the text, he felt an all-too-familiar feeling creeping up on him. The icy aura, the all-consuming sensation of happiness being drawn out of the very air around him, the unsettling realization that he was in the presence of pure evil, that was his only warning before he faintly glimpsed a red light out of the corner of his eye and everything went black.

When he came to, Harry found himself bound to a chair by heavy, magically-reinforced chains. His hands were clasped to the armrests and his ankles to the front with the chains wrapping around his torso in an x-shape and locking behind his back. To his great relief, he could also feel the hilt of his lightsaber pressed up against his back from where it clipped to his waist. Good, it had been taken from him! But all that was secondary to the oppressive icy aura of darkness, decay, and hopelessness that was surrounding him. Lifting his head and opening his eyes, Harry found himself gazing at a pair of familiar cloaked and rotting forms of Dementors. It was apparent that the only thing keeping the pair of them secluded to the opposite side of the room was that of a cat Patronus that was pacing about just in front of them.

"Hem, hem," a familiar voice falsely coughed to his opposite side. Harry already knew she was there, but he'd ignored her as he stared at the Dementors to the side. Why were there Dementors here, in Hogwarts? How had she managed to get them inside without anyone seeming to notice? Why had she brought them here in the first place? This couldn't have been done legally, of _that_ he was sure. The professors and Headmaster had been quite vocal in their distaste and anger at having so many of the foul creatures surrounding Hogwarts in his Third Year. So it stood to reason that they wouldn't have condoned actually letting them _into_ Hogwarts!

"_Hem, hem!_" Umbridge much more forcefully crocked. But again he ignored her, puzzling over the presences of the Dementors in the room. There was something here that was playing at the edge of his awareness, some clue he'd overlooked, some link he hadn't yet made. The Dementors officially were supposed to be under the Ministry's strict control, guarding Azkaban Prison. And while Voldemort may entice them to join his side, aside from the two that had attacked him over the summer, there was no hint that he'd even approached them to sway them over to his side. That meant that, officially, the Dementors still followed the Ministry's orders. But the Ministry, even with as demented and twisted as it was becoming under Fudge's growing insanity, should never have brought the Dementors into the Hogwarts. That must mean that…Umbridge had brought them here illegally, without consent from either the headmaster or the Minister of Magic. But if she was could that, then didn't that also mean that she could…

Finally looking up at Umbridge, who was clearly on the verge of cursing him to get his attention on her, Harry stared at her with his more deadly glare. In a low, dangerous voice, he said, "You sent those two Dementors after me this summer. The ones who killed my Aunt and Uncle."

Giggling loudly, as if his accusation amused her, she grinned conceitedly, "Oh, very clever, Mr. Potter, very clever! Yes, I did! And that is something else we'll be talking about in a few minutes. For now, would you be so kind as to drink this?" She held up a small vial of a crystal-clear potion. Harry recognized it immediately from having seen it and its effects briefly after he'd returned with Cedric's body and Crouch Jr. had been captured and interrogated, Veritaserum!

Before Harry could do little more than widen his eyes in realization, Umbridge had already cast a spell and froze his body. As he struggled to summon his magic to break the Witch's spell on him (something he'd never tried before), Umbridge had opened his mouth and poured some of the potion down inside. As the potion slid down his throat, the effects immediately started taking effect on him. He could literally feel his conscious mind being separated from his body, losing his control over his body, though there were still some attachments that kept him anchored, they were weak at best.

"Is your name Harry Potter?" Umbridge asked immediately.

"Yes," Harry's body answered immediately in a flat tone of voice that conveyed none of his anger towards her.

"Are you indeed learning the illegal art of Sorcery?" _What the?! How did she find out about that?!_ But there was no denying the hungry gaze in her stare as she waited for him to answer.

"Yes," Harry again answered, despite all of his tremendous mental efforts to not answer, to fight back, to regain control of himself.

The look of pure triumphant glee on Umbridge's face was something that Harry quickly found he despised with a deep passion. "I suppose Dumbledore is the one teaching this Sorcery, isn't he?"

"No," Harry answered. Despite himself, he felt at least a little satisfaction at seeing Umbridge's triumphant grin fade as anger replaced her glee.

"How are you learning it?"

"From a book I found."

"Where is this book?"

"In my schoolbag."

Umbridge rushed over to where she'd evidently placed it and dumped it over. Among the clutter of ink, spare quills, rolls of parchment, his textbooks of the day, and some miscellaneous items, there was his leather-bound book of Sorcery. Taking the book and quickly skimming through it, she nodded in acceptance that she had found the actual book. Returning back to Harry, she lowered her face down to his and glared intensely at him. "How did you stop my Dementors without using magic?"

"I killed them," Harry answered automatically. Since Umbridge didn't specify her demand, that was the best answer she got. That, and Harry could feel himself quickly regaining control of his body now, which helped him to fight back and stop his mouth from further explaining just how he managed to kill them.

"_Impossible!_" Umbridge barked immediately, her confusion and anger causing her to miss the signs that he was regaining his control. "Dementors _cannot_ be killed! _How_ did you stop them?! Did you have help from some other, _older_ wizard or witch?!"

"No," Harry answered again, regaining enough control of himself to keep his curt answer the only answer.

Umbridge must've seen that he had regained himself. She leaned back and glared at him with anger and a look of resignation that she couldn't interrogate him further. Then, after a moment to recollect herself, her grinned returned with a vengeance. "I guess it doesn't matter. You're still going to Azkaban for being an illegal Sorcerer."

"And _you're_ going to Azkaban for bringing Dementors into a _Muggle_ suburban city, enabling the spiritual _deaths_ of two people, and bringing _two more_ Dementors into Hogwarts _itself_," Harry countered, forcing himself to _not_ use his powers to break free. His instincts told him that now wasn't the right time, despite how much he _**really**_ wanted to!

"Oh contraire, Mr. Potter," Umbridge purred back. "I have the full, legal backing of the _entire_ Ministry of Magic on my side. Sending two Dementors into a city? Ha, you can't prove that. The 'spiritual deaths' of two people? They're only Muggles. Who cares about them? And I'll be _praised_ by Minister Fudge for having the forethought to have two powerful escorts keeping a dangerous felon restrained until the Aurors arrive for his arrest and imprisonment. The _law_ is what we _make of it_, Mr. Potter."

With that, she marched over to doorway that the two Dementors were more or less guarding. She didn't even pause as she reached the door and purred out to them, "Watch him closely. If he tries to escape, Kiss him."

As the door closed behind her, the cat Patronus faded and the two Dementors glided over towards him. They took positions on either side of them, scarcely more than an arm's reach away, trying to exert their oppressive down on him even more strongly. But Harry was much more powerful than he had been the last time he'd been in their presence and was able to shrug off their power with relative ease. Instead, Harry bowed his head, thinking deeply on what he should do now.

He could no longer stay at Hogwarts, or anywhere in the Wizarding World anymore. Umbridge was no doubt contacting Fudge this very moment. In fact, he could feel her as she moved about in her office and the sudden flare of the Floo as it was activated. Even if he tried to lie and claim that Umbridge was trying to spread lies about him, Fudge would no doubt leap at the chance to expel, arrest, and imprison him, even if the fact that the illegal use of Veritaserum on a minor came up. There would be no trial of defense, he already knew that. And even if there was, by some miracle, it would be heavily-rigged against him to the point nothing he said or did would reflect positively on him. And while Dumbledore may have a lot of power and influence, even if that said power was in serious question these days, even he would no doubt have to side with the Ministry on this issue, assuming that Ron was correct in how the Wizarding World as a whole viewed Sorcerers in general.

His life as a Wizard was now and forever effectively over.

But, much to his great surprise, he found he no longer cared. Granted, he was going to miss his friends and all the good memories he had gained over the last few years (this year notwithstanding). And as bleak as his future as a Wizard may have appeared, he could now see a vast swath of new choices and options open to him. He wouldn't be bound by Wizarding laws anymore (to an extent, at least). This meant that he could take much more active roles in the coming war against Voldemort! He could much more freely explore his MagiTech without worrying about homework or intrusive Inquisitors. He could dedicate more of his time to learning and mastering his Sorcery powers! Heck, he could even leave Great Britain altogether and travel the world if he so wanted!

Yes, he no longer had any reason to remain at Hogwarts.

As if to justify him, Harry sensed Umbridge abruptly vanish as she entered the Floo fully and was transported the Ministry of Magic. He knew she was traveling to the Ministry now to give Fudge a more detailed report, maybe even share her memory of the interrogation. Regardless of her reasoning, he knew that when she returned, she wouldn't be alone.

Clenching his hands around the armrests, Harry focused his magic upon the magic of the chains and shackles that held him in place. With a simple exertion of force, the shackles snapped open and the chains fell free to the floor. Launching himself forward, Harry slipped past and between the Dementors as they both jolted towards him, comically hitting one another on their 'heads'. Spinning around, Harry used their distraction to launch a powerful telekinetic shove, throwing both of them back into the far wall.

As they were recovering themselves, Harry grabbed his lightsaber and clamped on the emitter shroud. Igniting it, he leapt at the dark magic monsters, killing both with a single slash of his blade. Ignoring the disintegrating forms, he turned and collected his upturned schoolbag and discarded wand, he'd needing them in a short while. Rushing to Umbridge's office, he kicked the door open, smashing the wood in the process. In the room, he sought out the familiar feel of his Invisibility Cloak, finding it hidden in the lower drawer of her desk. Taking and donning the cloak, he then rushed out of the classroom and down towards his workshop.

If he was leaving Hogwarts, he wasn't going to leave behind his prototypes and research.

* * *

**Entrance Hall**

There was quite a commotion going on in the Entrance Hall. Harry knew what was going on long before he actually saw it. He could feel Fudge and Umbridge's presences there, along with easily two dozen Aurors, and they were in quite a heated argument with Dumbledore. And he could easily guess what it was about. Most of the students were gathered around the stairs down into the dungeons or towards the Grand Staircase close to where the Great Hall was located. Since this was happening shortly before dinner was about to be served, nearly the entire school population were present.

Hidden safely under his Invisibility Cloak with his schoolbag shrunk down to fit in his pocket, Harry snuck quietly up the staircase from the dungeons. Scooting around and between the different students who had gathered around the stair's upper steps, he was finally able to catch sight of the loud but incoherent words that were taking place there. It seemed that neither Fudge, Dumbledore, nor any of the Aurors seemed to care that they were attracting a large portion of the student body's attention.

"—arrested right now, Dumbledore!" Fudge was saying quite passionately. "I will not have you interfering a sanctioned Ministry proceeding this time!"

"I'm afraid that I cannot, in good conscience, simply allow you to arrest a young student with nothing more than the High Inquisitor's declaration of him performing illegal magical arts," Dumbledore said, unmoved in either his tone of voice or posture.

"I would not make false claims about something so serious, Headmaster!" Umbridge declared, standing as tall and proudly as her short figure could allow, self-importance and vindication quite evident in her posture and voice.

As the Headmaster was about to make another statement, Harry sensed a pair of Aurors rushing through the halls towards them. From the direction they were approaching from, as well as the outright panic in their auras, he knew they had just discovered his and the Dementors' missing presences in Umbridge's classroom. "Minister!" one of the Aurors cried out as they rounded the corner, shoving aside several students who hadn't moved aside fast enough. "He's gone! Potter's missing!"

"What?!" Umbridge and Fudge both cried in surprise, much to Harry's private delight. Then Umbridge demanded, "What of the Dementors guarding him?!"

"_Dementors?!_" the entire gathering of professors, students, Aurors, and even Fudge all cried out, shocked and quite disturbed at the possibility of having such foul creatures inside the school without their knowledge or consent.

"W-W-We didn't see any when we came through your Floo link," the other Auror answered, recovering from the surprise quicker than the rest.

"Impossible!" Umbridge cried out, her eyes widening as (Harry assumed) she realized that he _hadn't_ been lying when he said he could kill Dementors. "That's _impossible!_"

Due to his distraction at seeing Umbridge so flustered and even scared, Harry didn't notice that one of the students next to him was stepping around the others to get a better vantage point. The student, a Slytherin, bumped into him and caused both of them to grunt and momentarily lose their balances. Though he caught and steadied himself, the damage was done. The Slytherins around him had heard him and were turning to face where they thought he was. The Slytherin who'd actually hit him quickly reached out and managed to grab ahold of his Cloak, yanking on it. The Cloak was pulled off of him before he could dodge away and keep it secured around him. At least he was able to yank his Cloak back out of the surprised Slytherin's hand when he suddenly emerged and became visible again.

"It's Potter!" Malfoy cried out eagerly as soon as he recognized Harry, sneering conceitedly at the fumbling Gryffindor. "Over here! It's _Potter!_"

In a burst of anger, Harry thrust his hand towards Draco, sending the blonde ponce flying across the Entrance Hall and coming to a crumpling halt at Fudge's feet. Like the parting of the Red Sea, the collected students quickly shot away from Harry, leaving him completely exposed to the Aurors and Fudge. Draco quickly scrambled to his feet and fled off to the side with a hateful glare at Harry, which Harry ignored with practiced ease.

"Mr. Potter, you're under arrest for treason and illegal use of Sorcery!" Fudge immediately declared, blatantly ignoring everything else around him as he drew himself up in a self-righteous manner.

"You sure love posturing for the masses, don't you?" Harry asked irritably, stepping up out of the stairwell and into the Entrance Hall fully as he stuffed his Cloak into his magically-enchanted pocket with his schoolbag.

Snarling at Harry's disrespect, Fudge pointed at Harry as he looked over his shoulder. "Arrest him now!"

Harry ignored the Aurors as they hurried past the Minister, stopping a short distance away from him with their wands leveled at him. Several of them fired some spells at him, but Harry tapped into his enhanced flexibility and speed to easily dodge or evade the spells. In fact, on a whim, he actually threw himself up into the air and somersaulted over a Jelly-Leg Jinx, landing lightly on his feet and continuing his walk without a seeming care. This show of acrobatics with casual ease caused the Aurors, and the bystanders, to blink in surprise. Harry continued to ignore until he came to a stop at the foot of the large staircase leading up towards the Grand Staircase.

Turning back to face the Minister while still ignoring the somewhat unsettling stares of the school around him, Harry said, "You really are a pathetic man, Fudge. You would happily arrest and condemn innocent people just to ensure that your precious peace will not be disturbed by _unpleasant truths_."

"How dare you—!"

"_I dare_," Harry interrupted before the Minister could get started on his rant. "because it's the _truth_. I _dare_ because I face my fears and dangers _head on_, not _cowering_ behind others doing your bidding." He gestured towards the wall of Aurors who stood quite clearly between them, causing a lot of quiet muttering among the students and uneasy glances between the Aurors in question. "But that is beside the point here. You would imprison me, _without_ a trial I'm guessing, because you don't want to accept those _unpleasant truths_. Well, let me make something perfectly clear to you, to _all_ of you!"

"Whether you accept Voldemort's return or not, Cedric Diggory was still murdered!" Harry said, loudly so that his voice carried throughout the entire Hall. "And his murderer is _still out there!_ And if you believe _nothing_ else, believe _this:_ I will not stop until I lay that murderer's cold, bloody corpse at your feet!" He pointed quite clearly straight at Fudge to help enunciate his solemn vow.

"A fine speech, Mr. Potter," Umbridge spoke up, grinning conceitedly. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're still under arrest for—"

"_Shut up_, you ugly _toad!_" Harry snapped, glaring at her. There was soft, muted chuckling among the students at _that_ particular remark. Clearly, Umbridge picked up on the students' repressed amusement and started going a rather interesting shade of red as her anger mounted.

"_Enough of this!_" Fudge yelled, once again regaining everyone's attentions. "Aurors, I _order_ you to _arrest_ him—_**NOW!**_"

"I'm _not_ going to prison to satisfy your _fantasy_ world, Fudge," Harry declared, removing his school robe and letting it fall the ground around him, leaving him dressed in his red and gold Gryffindor undershirt and black slacks. This action also caused his lightsaber hilt to become exposed to the students who were watching from the Entrance Hall's second level and balcony. As the Aurors started moving towards him again, preparing to launch Stunners, body-binders, and rope spells at him, he grabbed the lightsaber hilt and held it forward towards the approaching Aurors. The Aurors all stopped at the sight of a strange contraption they could guess was a weapon but didn't recognize.

"The world is changing," Harry said, igniting the lightsaber and causing the Aurors to flinch back in reflex as the loud _snap-hiss_ noise. Sweeping the blade to his side in a casual stance, Harry closed his eyes as he delved deeply into the magic around him, summoning it and becoming one with it and his surroundings. Despite having his eyes closed, Harry became more aware of his surroundings than ever before.

"_Remember, Fudge_," Even to his own ears, Harry's voice carried a subtle undertone of power that _commanded_ attention. "_Whatever happens next was entirely __**your**__ choice_."

The next few seconds seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Around him, Harry could sense the emotions of everyone present. The majority of the school were scared, excited, confused, concerned, or happy with what was happening before them. The Aurors were a mixture of cocky arrogance, confidence, uncertainty, fear, or resignation. Fudge was wavering between fear, rage, uncertainty, and pompous pride. Umbridge was perhaps the easiest to read because she had nothing more than a dark desire to see him arrested and imprisoned for life.

Despite himself, Harry almost let out a sigh of exasperation when he sensed something else. From all of the collected observers, he could sense a variable amount of curiosity towards the unusual weapon he was carrying. A vast majority of those people were far from impressed, and he could practically read their thoughts on what they thought it was. '_What kind of pathetic weapon is that?' 'What can a flimsy stick of light like that possibly do to a group of Aurors?' 'It's going to be so funny watching Potter get knocked off his high horse when the Aurors finally take him down._' He knew that this line of thinking was quite prominent among the Purebloods and Halfbloods. But it was the Muggleborns that he sensed true awe, reverence, and excitement. They had grown up in a full Muggle household, and as such were exposed to certain things that the Purebloods and Halfbloods weren't, who usually were raised in purely magical households. Thus, they were the only ones to recognize what he was holding and the true significance of just what it was and could possibly do.

"_STOP __**STARING**__ AND __**ARREST**__ HIM!_" Fudge yelled, having finally given into his pride as being the most powerful man in the Ministry of Magic, fear of losing that position and the acclaim to some senile old man and his teenaged upstart of a figurehead, and rage at the said 'figurehead's open mockery of him.

"_Expelliarmus!_" one of the Aurors fired off.

This time, Harry didn't bother trying to dodge the magic bolt. He simply waited for the magic to reach him before he swept his arm upwards, deflecting the spell up towards the ceiling where it crashed with only a small explosion of magical discharge to mark the spot. All went dead silent and still in the Entrance Hall for a long moment as everyone took in just what had happened and what it meant. It was in that moment of silence that Harry finally opened his eyes and stared at the collected Ministry officials with a detached calmness that seemed quite out of place on his face.

"Here's to finally getting expelled," Harry said with a wan smile on his face, his voice echoing off the walls. But despite the smile on his face, all bystanders and participants could practically feel the sadness in his aura, hear the resignation in his voice, and see the look of wistful longing on his face. He had already accepted the fact that his days in Hogwarts and the Wizarding World as a whole were over now, and it saddened more than he could possibly convey in words. Looking at his situation logically, Harry knew he really should have been expelled ages ago. And now, at last, it takes a Ministry attack force, sorcery, and what was likely to be a life and death struggle in front of the whole school to do it. '_Only Fred and George could top something like this._'

Then he launched himself up into a titanic jump that no normal person and Wizard could possibly be capable of, sailing over the frontline of Aurors and landing behind them before they could overcome their shock. Spinning around, he thrust both his hands at them, blasting them with a powerful wave of telekinesis that sent them flying forwards, disoriented and confused. Spinning back around, he deflected six different spells launched at him from different angles, knocking them safely up to the ceiling.

"You really are reckless law enforcers," Harry observed as he batted aside yet another spell. "Using so many spells where so many _innocent_ bystanders are in danger of being hit. What would happen if I _didn't_ try to protect them from your stupidity?"

His question caused several of the Aurors to lower their wands as they looked around, as if seeing the large number of watching students for the first time. However, the rest of the Aurors ignored Harry's questions and continued firing off their spells at him while rushing around the sides to try and flank him. Having to increase his speed to keep up with the wider area of spells being fired at him from, Harry began drawing in the magic around him. A corona of visible magic began to collect around his fast-moving body, causing gawking awe from the students and several of the smarter or more experienced Aurors to brace themselves.

Jumping lightly into the air, Harry curled himself into a ball as the massive amount of magic around him was drawn towards him, compressed and eager to break away. With a loud shout of exertion, Harry threw his arms and legs out, launching the magic into a massive spherical blast of pure power. The overwhelming force of the blast sent all of the nearby Aurors flying in all directions away from him, leaving Harry standing in the eye of the storm he'd created so briefly

"Harry, you need to stop this now," a slightly familiar voice spoke up in front of him. It was that Auror he'd briefly met back at Grimmauld Place, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He seemed to have been the only one of the Aurors still standing, having used a powerful Shield Charm to block or redirect Harry's repulse. "That power will lead you down a path you don't want to walk, even if you're trying to bring a killer to justice. You don't know what that kind of power can do to a person."

Flashes of a mechanical being dressed in black armor who mercilessly condoned the destruction of an entire planet shot through Harry's mind. "I think I have a pretty good idea of what could happen."

"If you stop this now, I'm sure that the Minister will be willing to overlook all this, but you _have to_ _**stop**_," Kingsley pled, a look of genuine desire to help Harry crossing his face. But Harry could see over Kingsley's shoulder, where Fudge was gawking in plainly visible growing fear and anger. Even without his enhanced senses, Harry could've easily guessed the man's mental state and thought processes.

"We both know that door has already been slammed shut, Auror," Harry said, his voice devoid of all emotion except a detached calmness that was as surprising to him as everyone else. He didn't know how or why, but he just didn't feel anger or aggression anymore, not even when he had been in the heat of combat a few moments ago.

"Very well then," Kingsley said, casting his wand about as he muttered muted complex magical phrases. Around him, large chunks of the stone floor began rising up out of the ground, molding and growing up into a large behemoth figure. After several long moments, Harry stared up at the titanic form of what could've only been some kind of super-advanced Auror-level golem. The golem had a very strong resemblance to a praying mantis with two large antennae protruding from its head, a slender neck that connected the head to a long body that was adorned with six pincer-equipped legs. Strangely, aside from the shining blue eyes it had, the two ends of the antennae on its head were glowing with powerful, repressed magic.

Despite himself, Harry couldn't help swallowing back a bit of well-deserved fear at this show of advanced magic. He had _never_ heard of anything like this, thus he had no idea of just what it was capable of. And that stark realization set him on edge immediately.

Taking a large step forward, the golem's antennae glowed brightly momentarily before a pair of powerful but narrow streams of pure magical energy shot out of them. Harry fumbled to bring his lightsaber up to block the magic, but the sheer force of the impact knocked the saber from his hand and sent him careening backwards a short distance, landing on his back. The heavy stomps and vibrating floor told him the golem rushing to keep him down and secure. Looking up, Harry had just enough time to see the golem raising one of its pincers to bring down on him. He quickly rolled to the side, just missing the pincer as it smashed into the floor. Pushing himself up to his hands and knees, Harry kicked off and slid backwards between the golem's legs as it was preparing to bring another pincer down on him.

Jumping to his feet and dashing to the side, Harry watched the golem as it turned towards him at speeds that surprised him. '_It's faster than it looks_,' Harry analyzed as the golem caught sight of him, its antennae glowing ominously. This time prepared, Harry gathered a large amount of magic into his hand and raised it defensively in front of him just as the golem launched its attack. The magic beams slammed into Harry's palm, emitting a potent heat that Harry could feel and yet not feel, merely detecting the impression of the heat on his skin. The impact of the beams still knocked him slightly off balance, toppling him down to his knees and forcing him to steady himself with his spare hand. All the while, the magic beams continued to bear down on him, determined to power through his defense to reach him and knock him unconscious.

Bracing himself, Harry raised his spare hand and directed it towards the golem's leg that he could see. Channeling the ambient magic into a form that he hasn't used since he spoke to Firenze, Harry unleashed strong torrents of lightning from his fingertips and palm. The lightning slammed into the golem's leg, knocking it back and disrupting its stance, which in turn caused it to cease its beam attack as it steadied itself. Rushing towards it, Harry reached out his hand to where he could sense his lightsaber had fallen and summoned it back to his hand.

Leaping up, Harry ignited the blade as he landed upon the golem's bucking and thrashing head. With one hand to hold himself in place, Harry stabbed his saber down into its 'brain' repeatedly, trying to disrupt the internal magics that were holding it together. But that did little more than apparently disorient and piss the golem off, causing it stumble and slide across the floor as it launched magic beams that drilled and burned through everything they came into contact with, all in a vain attempt to reach him or knock him off of itself. Seeing the effect he was having, Harry quickly changed tactics, yanking his saber out and slashing off the two antennae, abruptly cutting off the arcing beams as they were starting to swing towards the unprotected and unprepared bystanders.

Releasing his hold, Harry slid down off it neck and onto its torso, slicing off several of its legs to cripple its mobility and speed. As the golem tilted precariously to one side, Harry leapt off it fully and landed on the debris-strewn floor several meters away. Turning back to the golem, he had just a moment to glimpse it struggling towards him, raising one of its severed and still-red hot limbs to jab him with. Thrusting out his hand, Harry used his power to stop the limb in place before it could come closer than a meter's length from reaching him. The golem struggled to break free of his grip when it saw this. Switching off his lightsaber, Harry brought his free hand forward to help him reinforce his hold on it, lifting its heavy bulk completely off the ground.

Clenching his fists mightily, Harry used his power to crush its remaining limbs to gravel and dust before releasing it of his hold. As the bulk of the golem descended for the floor, Harry reignited his lightsaber and leapt up beside it, his blade slashing through half of its torso. The body crashed to the ground as Harry reached his jump's apex, gently sliding over to the opposite side of it. As gravity pulled him back down to the ground, Harry brought his lightsaber down, completely bisecting the golem into perfect halves.

All was once again silent in the Entrance Hall as Harry calmly stood back up to his feet, the remains of the golem disintegrating into an unrecognizable pile of dirt, debris, and dust. Facing Kingsley, Harry raised his free hand towards him and gave him the classical 'come on' gesture, silently asking him to try again. Kingsley was visibly panting from the massive amounts of magic and mental concentration he'd put into creating and controlling the golem, so he was far from ready for another shot. The black man merely raised his hands in a surrendering gesture as he wisely stepped aside, showing he would no longer try to interfere with Harry.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Looking over at where the curse was launched from, Harry stared unerringly at Umbridge. He didn't even break his gaze as he held up his lightsaber to absorb the deadly and supposedly unstoppable Killing Curse, unwilling to risk deflecting it anywhere else. "_You __**truly**__ are a __**monster**__, you __**witch**_," he growled at the stunned witch, his voice once again reverberating with an incredible and unnatural power.

Using all of his speed, Harry sprinted up to the Dark Witch even faster than she or anyone else present could blink, much less try to stop him. He slashed his lightsaber up in a rising arc across her chest, not enough to actually kill her since he didn't want to be branded an outright murderer. But his attack definitely would leave a permanent slash mark across her torso. And despite all his hatred of the witch, he felt absolutely no pity or satisfaction as he watched her shriek out in agony, falling to the floor and staring in total horror at her smoothly dismembered right forearm and hand that was still gripping her wand, which she'd reflexively tried to use to protect herself with from the saber blade.

It took only a glance at the terrified pudgy man who now stood less than a meter from him to send him falling to the ground, crying out in fear and practically begging for his life.

Deactivating his lightsaber, he swept his arms to the sides and sent Umbridge and Fudge's downed forms sliding in opposite directions, leaving the exit before open and unblocked from any further combatants. Turning, he glanced over his shoulder towards the watching students, professors, and quickly-recovering Aurors. Forcefully ignoring the school and Aurors, Harry fixed his gaze on Headmaster Dumbledore, "Sorry, Headmaster. Looks like I'll have to hand in my resignation from the school. I hope they don't blame you for this. It _wasn't_ your fault."

Dumbledore looked every bit his age as he gazed sadly at Harry, clearly unable to find the words to voice his thoughts. In the end, he merely gave the departing Potter a curt nod as he said, "You are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry nodded in acceptance. Turning back to the exit, he raise his free arm in a farewell wave over his shoulder as he started walking out the doors. Then he vanished in a burst of speed towards the Forbidden Forest. Reaching into his pocket as he ran, he pulled out his wand. "_Accio Firebolt!_"

As he raced away from the castle, he knew his life would never be same again.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Before any of you start harping about how Harry (barely even a Fifth Year student who hasn't even taken his OWLs) was able to basically curb-stomp 2 dozen trained Aurors with no difficulty, I'd like to make a few clear about how Harry was able to do this. The first and most important thing to consider is that Harry is the first known Sorcerer in Great Britain for at least the last 100 years or so, so the Aurors had next to no knowledge or training on how to handle a person like him.

The second thing is how Harry is able to use his Sorcery: wandless, silent, and with ease despite his relative inexperience. He doesn't have to waste time waving, flicking, or jabbing a wand in complex patterns while chanting out magical phrases of gibberish. This saves time and gives him a _huge_ advantage in and of itself. Also, he is changing into a very different type of combatant than they've ever had to deal with. Where Wizards and Witches view combat as taking place at mid- to long-range with high amounts of magic being thrown about, Harry is becoming a close-range fighter who can enhance his body to superhuman levels thanks to his Sorcery.

When combined with his lightsaber, a tool he's created and never revealed until just now, this makes him a practically unbeatable foe to most run-of-the-mill Wizards because they have never seen such a weapon before or know of its many different capabilities and dangerous powers.

And all that is without even considering his _**massive**_ amount of raw power. Simply put, if Kingsley were a loch, Harry would've been an ocean.

Frankly at this point, the only one present who could've beaten Harry would've been Albus Dumbledore. Albus had not only a large amount of experience and power, but he knew far more types of magic and tactics to win than all of the Aurors combined and then some. And while his power may not hold a candle to Harry anymore, it was still considerable and nothing to sneeze at. Had he entered the fight, Harry would've been beaten in a comparatively long and hard-fought battle.

PS: If no one can see the parallels between this fight scene and a fairly well-known game trailer in recent media, I'm going to be _**VERY**_ surprised and maybe a little disappointed.


	7. Never the Same Again

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#07: Never the Same Again_

**October 13, 1995  
Northumberland, England**

For all the incredible speed that the Firebolt was capable of, Harry found that he still couldn't outrun the onset of night and had to set down soon. Flying at night was no problem, even preferable to flying during the day. But the problem lie in the simple fact that he still hadn't had dinner due to Umbridge's detention-turned-interrogation, and thus he was starving. Which in turn led him to a major problem that he hadn't realized he had until just recently: he had no money, whether golden Galleons or Muggle pounds.

As he was struggling with the moral dilemma of stealing food, he sensed something peculiar. It tickled the edges of his perception in a way that was similar to, but quite different from his Sorcery. This strange sensation caused him to come to an immediate halt, hovering in place as he reached out his senses to try and verify what it was that he could feel. Interestingly, that initial comparison of it being like Sorcery and yet different stood out quite prominently. Intrigued, he veered off from his southern course and flew off westerly towards where he could feel it coming from.

Flying high in the dark sky, Harry gazed down at the black roads, forested hills, and waving grasslands. Scattered about in seemingly random locations were the headlights of vehicles and the bright glares of streetlamps and city lights. But where he was flying towards was out in the middle of a darkened forested valley. As he approached it, his senses buzzed with the much more familiar feel of Wizard magic like wards, charms, and repelling jinxes. If his senses were accurate, then these unique wards and whatnot were geared towards repelling not only Muggles but also Wizards.

And as he flew closer, rounding one of the wooded hills, he found himself staring at what seemed like a small village. From the air and even to the casual eye, it looked every bit a common Muggle hamlet. But he could feel the magic that hung in the air around it, permeating through it like a fine perfume. This was a magical village of some sort. And that strange tingle he could feel was coming from inside it. What was that tingle?!

Flying in close, he set down just outside the wards. Stowing his broom into his enchanted pocket, Harry approached the village's boundary on foot, passing through the wards easily. Though the wards didn't do anything to harm him, he could feel them pulse outwards from his entry spot, like ripples in a pond. In that moment, he knew that his entrance into the village had been detected by someone, probably the leader or owner. Resting one hand on the hilt of his lightsaber and the other on his wand, both of which hung from his belt, Harry cautiously entered the village.

Looking around, he noticed that many of the people in the streets were behaving much like any other civilians would. Some were talking amongst themselves as they walked towards their destinations, some stood in front of stores and windows looking inwards, and he could hear a lot of loud, raucous singing taking place over at what seemed like a popular pub. And each of the people had that strange tingle was emanating from them, some more strongly than others.

"And what's a young child like you doing out this late at night?" a low voice demanded from a nearby alley in a tone that sounded remarkably similar to a growl.

Looking over at the man, Harry took only a second to blink in surprise at the man. Though he was dressed casually as any other Muggle with jacket over a dark shirt and some worn jeans, there was a certain look in his eyes that just screamed that he was a powerful predator on the hunt. In fact, Harry wouldn't have been exaggerating to say that the man's eyes had the same glow to them as a dog or cat had at night. Though he had his arms crossed and was leaning against the side of the building, partially hidden in the shadows, there was no mistaking the air of danger that the man exuded.

"Just hoping to find a bite to eat," Harry answered truthfully, taking one of his hands to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. "I forgot to bring my wallet from home."

"So, you were just hoping to bewitch one of my cooks into feeding you free of charge?" the man demanded bluntly, standing up straight as he uncrossed his arms.

"If that were the case, I wouldn't have told you I have no money, would I?" Harry challenged, not backing down from the man as he dropped his hand to his side. His other hand started tightening ever-so-slightly around his lightsaber.

"Perhaps," the man agreed, nodding his head slightly in allowance to Harry's point. "But nonetheless, you are in Alba Pack territory and we don't abide Wizards, children or not."

"Alba Pack?" Harry asked, curiosity and confusion evident in his expression and voice. "What's that? I've never heard of 'Alba Pack' before."

"Of _course_ you wouldn't," the man sneered, walking out of the shadows. He came to a stop a few arm-lengths away from Harry, lights of the streetlamps finally giving Harry a clear image of the man. "Why would a boy-Wizard like you know about the Alba Werewolf Pack of Northumberland?" From the way the man continued sneering at Harry, it was obvious he was awaiting for the panic to set in and scare the boy witless.

Blinking slightly, Harry turned and looked around the village street again. So that was why these people all gave off such a strange tingle? Because they were all Werewolves? Now that he took the time to think about it, it made much more sense to him. But, if his senses were telling him the truth, there must've been at least a hundred people in this village. _All_ of them were Werewolves? Despite himself, Harry suddenly realized just why the Ministry of Magic never seemed to have a problem with the so-called Dark Creatures. If they all lived in little, isolated communities like these, it definitely made containing and controlling them much more efficient and easy.

"Who are you and what are you doing here, boy?!" the Werewolf demanded, much more hostilely since he was plainly disappointed at not seeing Harry panic.

"I'm Harry and I'm just looking for some food," Harry repeated, looking back at the man levelly. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."

"Oh no, you don't!" the man barked reaching forward to grab the departing boy by his shirt collar. To the Werewolf's surprise, Harry easily bounced out of his reach at a speed that was surprising. It was a very rare occurrence for a normal Wizard to be able to dodge a Werewolf, especially at such close-range. As Harry turned to face him, the Werewolf let out a loud growl as his lips twisted into a hateful snarl. "Wizard scum!"

Yet again, impossibly, the Werewolf was dodged by the boy as he knelt under the lunge. With a simple application of strength and leverage, Harry easily tossed the man over his shoulder and slammed him down on his back, knocking the wind from his lungs. As he was stepping away from the slowly-recovering Werewolf, the bystanders on the street suddenly ceased their business to turn and watch the spectacle that was taking place.

"Leave me alone," Harry said. "I'm not hurting anyone and have no wish to. You're just going to embarrass yourself in front of all these people if this continues."

"Shut up, ya damn _Wizard_!" the Werewolf spat, rolling over onto all fours, and glaring at Harry in a stance that strongly resembled his canine curse, complete with flashing golden eyes.

"You don't know what you're up against," Harry stated, unclipping his lightsaber and holding out his free hand towards the man. "And I really don't want to hurt you defending myself."

The man didn't even try to respond before lunging again with even greater speed. Harry leapt high into the air, landing atop the nearest streetlamp while keeping his eye on the man below. Around him, the crowd watched with heightened interest. Unlike with normal Wizards, such feats of strength, speed, and nimble agility as what Harry was demonstrating was nothing out of the norm, especially with the full moon so close. By what caught and kept their interest was the obvious _lack_ of the Werewolf scent that Harry had.

As the man below was preparing to launch himself up after the boy, a loud voice yelled out, "_What's going on here?!_"

"Hendrick! It's a Wizard!" the man yelled out, immediately turning his attention to the tall man marching through the crowded street towards them. Even from a distance, Harry could see that this was a man who you _didn't_ cross, no matter what, if you valued your life. Powerfully built, with a shaven head, strong jaw, and who moved like an expertly-trained boxer, Hendrick would not have been out of place wearing a Muggle soldier uniform in Harry's opinion. All of which was a massive contrast to the man below him, who seemed little more than a vagabond in shabby clothes.

"I think it's pretty clear that's what I'm _not_," Harry called down. "Not anymore."

"Why don't you come down here and tell me what you are, then?" Hendrick asked, glancing up at Harry for a moment. Then he turned and glared at the vagabond, "Get lost, Baxter." The vagabond quickly scampered back into the alley from whence he'd come from, clearly terrified of inciting his alpha's wrath.

Only once Baxter was gone did Harry drop back down to the ground, landing lightly just in front of Hendrick. "I'm very sorry about all this, sir. I was just looking for a place to have something to eat and maybe spend the night, and then I'd be on my way."

Hendrick merely quirked an eyebrow at Harry's polite attitude towards him. It was something he very rarely encountered among Wizards, being treated as a person and not a foul mongrel that should be muzzled and put down immediately. Taking a few deep sniffs, Hendrick gazed down at Harry, "You smell like wind, ink, blood, and…nature? What are you, boy? No normal Wizard smells like _that_."

Harry gave him a partial grin. "I'm not exactly a Wizard anymore. And I'll definitely tell you, just not here okay? I don't want to be attacked again…and could we eat as we talked? I really _am_ hungry."

Glancing around at the members of his Pack who were still lingering around them, Hendrick nodded in agreement. Gesturing to the side, he said, "This way. Don't run off."

* * *

Dinner for Harry was a simple potato soup with some bread and milk to wash it down with. During that time, Harry was introduced to Hendrick's wife Maria and their young son Michael. Although Maria filled the silence of the dining room with polite talk ranging from how the wheat crop was abiding the final months of growth to certain bits of gossip she overheard among the other housewives of the village, Harry felt Hendrick's powerful gaze on him throughout the entirety of the small meal. Harry knew that the large Werewolf was watching, observing, scrutinizing for any signs of aggression towards his family. Michael clearly took after his mother, joining her in 'polite' conversation as he eagerly told them how he was going to bash in the face of his rival tomorrow morning to assert his dominance, which his father sternly warned him not to with a slight growl and a narrowed glare. Once dinner was finished and Harry happily offered his help in cleanup in payment for the meal, but Hendrick pulled him aside into the living room to have their awaited conversation.

"Now that you're fed, talk," he stated as soon as Harry entered the small but quaint room. Hendrick took up a place at the doorway, leaning against it slightly with his arms crossed, watching Harry carefully. "Who are you? What business brings a Hogwarts student so far south in the middle of the school year? And what is that thing you were planning to use on Baxter had I not called him off?"

Turning to face the Werewolf, Harry took a breath as he prepared for what he knew would likely become an unpleasant conversation. Holding himself modestly but firmly, he began, "My name is Harry Potter." Seeing Hendrick's eyes immediately fly up to the unmanageable mop that covered his forehead, he reached up and swept back his bangs to expose his famous scar for a moment. Letting his hair fall back down, he continued, "I am not a student of Hogwarts anymore because the Ministry's become infested with the corrupt, the self-righteous, and the willfully ignorant. As you probably know, Fudge has been looking for an excuse to permanently shut me up about Voldemort's return since June, and now he's finally found an excuse." Much to Harry's great interest, Hendrick didn't even twitch at the mention of Voldemort's name.

"And that excuse is…?"

"That I'm now a Sorcerer," Harry admitted, watching Hendrick just as closely as the Werewolf was watching him. "That I now have access to a forbidden branch of magic that they don't understand."

"And people fear that which they don't understand," Hendrick stated, he once again didn't even twitch at the mention of Sorcery. Though he did raise an eyebrow at Harry's claim of learning a forbidden branch of magic. There were many types of magic in the world, and more than a few of them were illegal or forbidden. After a moment of silence, Hendrick gestured slightly at Harry's waist, silently asking about what hung there.

Unclipping his lightsaber, Harry held it up, carefully in front of him and pointed upwards to not startle the Werewolf. "This is what I used to help me escape Hogwarts when Fudge and two dozen Aurors tried to arrest me." Igniting the lightsaber filled the room with a soft blue glow, causing Hendrick to quickly step back into a defensive stance out of instinct. But after a long moment, he relaxed out of it when he saw just what it was that Harry was holding before he scrutinized it carefully.

"That looks like a lightsaber," he observed.

"You know what a lightsaber is?" Harry asked, quite surprised as he deactivated the weapon.

"Of course," Hendrick answered, finally letting out a slight grin at the young teenager. "I wasn't born an ignorant Werewolf or raised as a Wizard. My name _was_ Major Jason Zimmerman of the Royal Army, former SAS officer."

"SAS?!" Harry repeated, surprised yet again. But, even as he reexamined the man before him, Harry realized that his initial assumption of the man being an exemplary example of soldier had been spot on. "Yeah, I can it now. You hold yourself like a soldier."

Hendrick nodded, his face returning to its previous impassive expression. "Then I was bitten by that bastard Greyback back in '87 and had to retire or be put down those Ministry bastards of yours… So, yes, I am quite familiar with what a lightsaber is. It is truly impressive that you could make one. I thought they were just fantasy weapons." Despite himself, Harry smiled slightly. He was finding that he loved it when someone praised his lightsaber, which seemed to be almost everyone at this point.

"What is this 'Sorcery' that has those fools hunting you like a dog?"

"Well, if you're familiar with _Star Wars_, then Sorcery is pretty much like the Force, but with magic," Harry explained, smirking slightly at Hendrick's raised eyebrow. "What I didn't know until after I started learning it was that Sorcery is basically the most illegal form of magic there is and the Wizarding World doesn't _like_ Sorcerers one bit."

"So what are you planning to do now?" Hendrick asked. "Hide in the Muggle World from on? Challenge the Ministry of Magic? Topple it? Take over the Wizarding World and become its King?"

"There is _no way_ I'll ever become a ruler, too much ass-kissing and too little justice being done," Harry stated sternly. "I'm going to hunt down Voldemort, kill him, and then…I don't know. We'll see when I get there."

"Very well," Hendrick acquiesced, nodding. After a moment of silence, he said, "You have some considerable courage speaking so openly about your intentions."

Catching Hendrick's hidden meaning, Harry explained, "If you had wanted to harm me or contact Voldemort, you'd have done so as soon as you learned who I was. And I don't sense any hostility from you towards me. Your only concern is protecting your family and the Alba Pack…Although, I would strongly recommend keeping a close eye on that 'Baxter' fellow."

Hendrick nodded in agreement. "You may stay the night, but you must leave tomorrow morning. Baxter may be slime, but he's been in contact with Greyback a lot lately. I may not be able to guarantee your safety, should you stay any longer."

"One night, that's more than enough," Harry said, nodding in gratitude. Looking back up at Hendrick, Harry couldn't help narrowing his gaze as his face turned inquisitive. "If you don't mind my asking, but could I…examine you, sir?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's just…There's a very strange aura around you, _all_ of you actually, and it feels like _Sorcery_," Harry said, watching as Hendrick blinked in surprise.

After a moment of consideration, the Werewolf Alpha finally moved forward, stopping an arm's length from the teenager where he stood awkwardly, not sure what the boy wanted him to do. Reaching his hands out gently, Harry closed his eyes as he delved into the magic around him. He could feel Hendrick's aura much more clearly and he found it utterly fascinating. Though Hendrick himself had no magic (as he freely admitted to), Harry could nonetheless sense a very faint aura of magic emanating from him. The magic did indeed have a strong resemblance to Sorcery, so much so that Harry could only assume that it was once created _by_ Sorcery. But if that aura of magic was created by Sorcery and Hendrick was a converted Muggle, then that must mean that what he was sensing was…

"The Werewolf Curse," Harry muttered to himself, opening his eyes in surprise. Hendrick gazed down at Harry critically, questioningly. "I think…I think the Werewolf Curse was originally created by an ancient _Sorcerer_."

"How can you know that?" Hendrick demanded sharply, though more than a little curious. "No one knows where or how this curse came into being."

"Because there haven't been any Sorcerers for several centuries," Harry pointed out, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "I can _feel_ it. This is _definitely_ the work of a Sorcerer. But…maybe I can…"

Reaching forward both physically and metaphysically, he laid his hands upon Hendrick's chest, feeling out the Curse. Reaching into the Sorcery that was coating the man, he felt it out, 'seeing' just what its functions were and how they affected Hendrick as a person. For the most part, the Curse worked exactly as Harry assumed it would. A shapeshifting piece of magic that could transferred from one person to another. Extraordinarily heightened aggression, animalistic instincts and brutality, superhuman levels of strength, speed, and stamina, and a monstrous desire to kill and mangle all humans. As he was feeling it out, Harry came to a somewhat depressing realization. This Curse was so tightly wrapped around and merged with Hendrick's body, that to remove it utterly would most assuredly _end_ his life.

But as he began unfurling and examining the various 'layers', he come across something quite disturbing. Harry found that he could also faintly feel the original creator's desire for the Curse, what its original purpose had been. The Sorcerous creator's desire was for an everlasting army of monsters who followed and obeyed on his or her beck and call, to spread fear, chaos, and expand the Sorcerer's domain throughout the entire world, one cursed person at a time. And that desire was best revealed in a strong compulsion that twisted the mind of the person inflicted with the Curse. The compulsion instilled a loyalty and obedience to the creator alone. But since the creator was long dead, this compulsion had become deeply skewed, boosting the aggression levels of the victim to far beyond that of rational people. In effect, the Werewolves hunted, killed, and infected to not only obey their master, but in an irrational way of fulfilling his dying command.

It was this strong but mangled obedience compulsion that Harry 'grabbed' ahold of, clenching his physical fingers slightly into Hendrik's shirt. Then, with a mighty flex of his will and power, he wrenched it apart from the Curse, quite literally pulling a wreathing cloud of sinister black mist out of the Werewolf's body and mind. Holding the maleficent mist as far away from Hendrick and himself as he could, Harry released it and watched it as it dissipated into nothingness. The exertion of it sent Harry staggering away, gasping. But the shock of the magical trauma dropped Hendrick completely down to his knees on the floor, where he panted for a breath as though he'd just run a 26-mile marathon before he collapsed completely onto his side.

"Daddy!" Michael yelled from beyond the room. Rushing in, the six-year-old slammed his shoulder into Harry, toppling him over on his side and as far away from Hendrick as the boy could get him. After a short growl at him, Michael quickly turned back to his father, begging him to answer him and see if he was alright, how he'd taken care of the bully who'd hurt him and would do so again if he was still hurt. They were joined shortly by Maria, who dutifully hurried to her husband while shooting accusing glares at the recovering Harry.

"Calm…down," Hendrick gasped out, finally able to push himself up into a sitting position. Looking at Harry, who was seated in a similar position, he demanded, "What…did you…do?!"

"I…I removed the compulsion," Harry said.

"What compulsion?" Maria demanded, looking between Harry and Hendrick. "What's going on here?!"

"The Werewolf Curse was created by a Sorcerer," Harry explained. "In it, I found out what the Curse was _supposed_ to do."

"And what's…that?" Hendrick said, grasping his wife's hand reassuringly.

"It was meant to help the Sorcerer take over the world," Harry said simply, keeping his face serious and neutral as the Werewolf family stared at him disbelievingly. "The Sorcerer wanted a vast army of monsters, monsters who could spread their curse throughout all the lands, and who obeyed him and him alone. With _legions_ of such monsters under his control, the Sorcerer would, in effect, rule the world." Gesturing towards Hendrick, he finished, "I simply removed the compulsions of obedience and to spread the curse to others. Now, without that messing with your head, you _should_ be able to freely control the Curse now."

"What?!" all three Werewolves asked in varying levels of confusion and disbelief.

Finally regaining his strength enough to stand up to his feet, Hendrick immediately turned and headed outside. Harry just watched him go, content to sit upon the floor and await the Werewolf's return. With his Sorcery, Harry followed the family as they hurriedly ran out of the house, down the street and into the forest glade that was nestled next to their village. He could feel the magic in the air twist and change as the improbable occurred. And when a triumphant wolf howl echoed throughout the village, Harry couldn't repress the small smile of accomplishment that crossed his face.

'_Friday the 13__th_,' Harry thought. '_A long and sad history of __**bad**__ luck. But, perhaps, this could be one of the few __**good**__ things that has ever happened on it_.' And his small smile only widened when he sensed the approach of a familiar presence winging her way towards him. '_I hope Hedwig isn't mad at me for forgetting her back at Hogwarts… Yeah, she's definitely gonna be upset._'

It was the dawn of a new age for the Werewolves of the Alba Pack. The beginning of a fruitful alliance between those the Ministry of Magic scorned and hunted. And poor Harry wouldn't be getting _any_ rest this night.

* * *

**October 14, 1995  
Great Hall, Hogwarts**

It was a pensive Hall that Hermione and Ron came into that morning for breakfast. Conversation was vibrant but muted at the same time, the subject the same one it had been last night. It was a very uncomfortable situation that, in a sad way, both of them had grown used to over the past four years. Thus they didn't pay much attention as the various conversations momentarily were silenced as the speakers all glanced or glared at them as they past, as though they were personally at fault. Well, Hermione ignored them for the most part while Ron just shot the ones glaring at them a glare of his own.

Taking their seats, Hermione quickly began filling up her plate as she tried to focus on what she could accomplish this day. It was Saturday and although she'd already finished her homework, it never hurt to reread ahead and review her homework. Add in about an hour's worth of time to nag Ron and Ha— _Ron_ to do his own homework. Maybe, if she had the time and inclination, she could try piecing together the clues that Harry had left her on how to construct her own lightsaber. At that thought, Hermione reached up and lightly touched the small necklace she wore under her robes, her beautiful green gem hanging from it like a piece of highly exotic jewelry.

"You'd think they'd be _use_ to this stuff by _now_," Ron grumbled lowly next to her, hunched over his own plate as he began eating.

"Harry being an illegal Sorcerer, using an unknown weapon that helped his defeat twenty-six experienced Aurors, dismembering Professor Umbridge, knocking the Minister of Magic aside, and being expelled from school?" Hermione summarized quietly. "Those are pretty extreme circumstances. They'll be talking that for _decades_ to come, if not centuries. What I want to know is how the Ministry's going to handle this."

"I know," Ron said. "After everything that happened, that's not something you can just sweep under the rug."

A familiar flapping of wings drew the attention of the students as the morning post arrived. Hermione waited patiently for one of the owls to land near her to drop off the Daily Prophet. Dropping a few Knuts into its little pouch, she bade it farewell before grabbing the newspaper and starting to read.

_**DEVASTATING ATTACK AT HOGWARTS!  
**__MINISTER OF MAGIC ISSUES FRANTIC SEARCH!_

_Yesterday evening, High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge uncovered evidence of illegal magic practices taking place in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Taking the matter to Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, the High Inquisitor and Minister rushed to Hogwarts with two dozen Aurors to put a stop to what was discovered. However, upon their arrival, they were immediately beseeched by Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, claiming that no such practices were being done and that he couldn't 'in good conscious' allow the Ministry to fully investigate the claims._

_That was when Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, attacked! Using a strange weapon he had somehow created, he was able to quickly and easily defeat all of the Aurors in less than a minute! During the battle, even High Inquisitor Umbridge was gravely injured, getting her right arm completely cut off by the boy's weapon! Even the Minister of Magic couldn't land a spell upon him due to the magic weapon the boy possessed. And what did Headmaster Dumbledore do when he saw one of his students so casually mocking the Ministry and its justice system? He let the boy go without a fight! How can this man be allowed to remain as the Headmaster?!_

_What was this weapon that the young Potter wielded? No one knows, but it was very much a sword of pure magical light, capable of repelling all manner of spells and curses with no difficulty at all. Although the Ministry scoured the school for hours, searching for clues to the weapon, even questioning Potter's closest associates, nothing has come to light in regards to this weapon, how it works, what it's made of, or where the boy got it. But what is known is that the weapon is __**highly **__dangerous, capable of cutting through solid rock with ease, deflecting spells that not even the most powerful of Shield Charms can, and is clearly made of highly Dark Magic. The Ministry knows this because when taken to St. Mungo's for treatment on her dismembered arm, the Healers were unable to heal, repair, or replace the High Inquisitor's severed arm! A weapon that can nullify even healing magic can only be the product of Dark Magic!_

_Due to his unwarranted attack, crippling of several Witches and Wizards, including the High Inquisitor herself, Harry Potter has been designated as the #01 Undesirable and is wanted for questioning and imprisonment for his acts against the Ministry of Magic._

_Though his whereabouts are presently unknown, the Ministry of Magic strongly cautions all Witches and Wizards who come across Harry Potter to immediately contact the Ministry of Magic and the Aurors. The boy is armed, unstable, and __**extremely**__ dangerous to all around him._

"How interesting," Hermione said, just barely managing to hold her temper in check.

"What?" Ron asked, glancing over at her. He hadn't stopped eating, just waited for her to read and explain to him the gist of what was written. Which was probably a very wise thing to do, she knew he would've likely lost his temper _very_ quickly.

"The Ministry is hiding the reasons why it tried to arrest Harry yesterday," Hermione said. "Nowhere is it mentioned that Harry is a Sorcerer. Sure, it goes into considerable detail about his lightsaber and how he defeated the Aurors, but that's it."

"Oh, of course there isn't," Ron said, earning a questioning glance from Hermione. "Fudge basically broke the law yesterday, and bungled it big-time. So he doesn't want it getting out, I'd guess."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Remember, Hermione," Ron said, a slight teasing gaze in his eyes. He was clearly enjoying being the one to explain things to _her_ for once. "Sorcery is one of the highest laws in the Statute of Secrecy. That means it was Fudge's _responsibility_ and _obligation_ to tell the ICW about Harry being a suspected Sorcerer. They have a Sorcerer-hunting law enforcement group dedicated to locating and arresting Sorcerers to preempt them from gaining too much power and skill. They are experienced against Sorcerers."

"And the common Auror likely isn't," Hermione said, quickly realizing what Ron was saying. "So probably Fudge must've wanted to gain the 'prestige' of capturing a Sorcerer, real or not, to help him reinforce his position politically. He didn't contact the ICW for help. And now that Harry escaped, he's going to try and cover it up for as long as he can until he can capture Harry for real this time."

"Exactly," Ron said. "I sent an owl to my parents last night, explaining everything that happened. They should've written to the Daily Prophet or even contacted the ICW by now to expose the truth."

"Not likely, little brother," Fred (or was it George?) said as the twins took up seats across from the pair.

"We heard Fudge telling one of the Aurors to block all outgoing owls," said the other twin, his face quite grim with barely hidden anger behind his eyes.

"So no one knows what really happened here, except for those that actually _saw_ it."

"And it'll probably stay that way for the rest of the year."

"But on the plus side, at least Harry was able to get rid of Umbridge."

"I doubt she'll be back any time soon."

No sooner had those words left the twin's mouth than did the Great Hall begin to fall silent as heads began turning towards the entrance. Interested in what had drawn the attentions of the others so easily, the brothers and Hermione all turned and stood up slightly to peek over the heads of others. There, marching through the doors up towards the Professors' table quite proudly, was Dolores Umbridge. Her right arm was wrapped up in a cast and hung from a shoulder-sling, showing off the fact that she was so grievously wounded that evening prior.

"What is _she_ doing here?!" Ron hissed lowly.

"I think we're about to find out," Hermione answered, watching as Umbridge walked past them and came to a stop in front of the Professors, specifically Headmaster Dumbledore, who had risen to his feet.

"Professor Umbridge, I'm pleased to see that you—"

"Spare me your pleasantries, Dumbledore," Umbridge interrupted. Awkwardly reaching into her robes with her left hand, she pulled out a long roll of parchment and handed it to the Headmaster. Though her back was to the student-body, there was little doubt in any of their minds that she was sneering in triumph. "AlbusPercival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you have been hereby relinquished of duties as Headmaster of Hogwarts, effective immediately by the unanimous decision of the Board of Governors, to be replaced by me, Dolores Jane Umbridge."

There was a long moment of silence that hung heavily over the entire Great Hall. No one would ever truly know who did it first, but in the end it didn't truly matter. In next to no time, the entire body of Hogwarts students all climbed to their feet and cried out unanimous shouts of denial, anger, and disgust towards the newly-minted Headmistress Umbridge, even the Slytherins.

* * *

**\- Excerpt from DobbyElfLord's story - 'Weres Harry' -**

**October 16, 1995  
Diagon Alley, London**

Remus Lupin was casually seated outside one of the restaurants, watching the magical shopping alley as he idly finished his meal. As always, Diagon Alley was filled with customers and vendors. The different shops buzzed with activity and the shoppers entered and exited with constant frequency. The Werewolf had wanted to check out the mood of the alley, following the spectacular fallout that was occurring since Harry's forced departure from Hogwarts. Suffice to say, that there was an air of frightened energy coursing through the people. Hushed conversations and inflated rumors about all the terrible things that Harry had reportedly done since entering the Wizarding World seemed to be the favorite subject of the people for the past few days.

It was as he was watching the passing shoppers for signs of known Death Eaters or their sympathizers when he spotted her. She approached him pointedly, which wasn't that surprising.

"Charisa," he said in greeting.

"Lupin," she replied.

"It's been a while."

"Six years," the woman agreed. "Since the last time you deigned to visit our pack. But you managed to become a Hogwarts professor – at least until your true nature came out."

Remus considered the woman. Charisa became a Werewolf at fifteen and was shortly thereafter thrown out of her parents' house. The teenage witch had been a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts and had just finished her OWLS when her life changed. She was taken into a pack shortly thereafter and developed a potent hatred towards the 'normals' for the rejection of her friends and family after her infection. She'd been shocked to learn the older Gryffindor that had just finished Hogwarts had been a werewolf his entire time at Hogwarts. Remus suggested she talk to Dumbledore about completing her schooling but she declined. The packs were leaning toward the Dark Lord and she refused to turn her back on the only ones to take her in and help. Besides, unlike Remus, her family made her infection public and even Dumbledore couldn't get a known werewolf included in the student body.

The last Remus had seen the woman she'd become the second to the Alpha Female of the Welsh pack. One of the five Packs of Albion, the Glyndwr pack claimed the forests of Wales as their hunting grounds. It was the largest pack and only Fenrir Greyback's pack in southern England had more sway across all the packs of Britain and Ireland.

"And to what do I owe this honor of you and your friends visit?" Remus asked as he indicated the three male werewolves behind her with a nod.

"A fortuitous event," Charisa answered. "The community needed some potions supplies and I had little choice but to come here." Remus could hear the disgust in her voice at the thought of mingling with 'normal' witches and wizards. "But when I saw you, I wanted to pass on word. There is to be a Gathering. Greyback seeks to unite the packs under his leadership once again. But you know the Pack Laws – everyone will have a voice and anyone that does not attend will be exempt from the Pack Law until the next Gathering. You must attend."

Remus sighed resignedly. He'd already been keeping in fairly close contact with the Werewolves since Voldemort's resurrection. Greyback may be many terrible things, his persistence was definitely one of his 'better' points of character. The bloodthirsty Werewolf wouldn't stop until he'd achieved his mission from the Dark Lord in reuniting all the Packs back under Voldemort's control once again. Greyback was positively relentless in his obvious quest. Thankfully for Remus's peace of mind, a lot of the Werewolves had grown somewhat accustomed to the peaceful life in these past few years and were rather reluctant to let them go.

The female werewolf's expression changed slightly to one of reluctant curiosity. "There's something else going on. The Alba Pack called for a Gathering of their own, but Hendrick made it quite clear it was about an issue that was completely unrelated to the Dark Lord."

"And what would that be?" Remus asked, suddenly rather interested.

"We don't know," Charisa admitted, looking both sheepish and disappointed. "Hendrick only said that it would completely change the lives of all Werewolves in the world."

The Alba Pack of Northumberland was one of the smaller packs and wielded the least amount of 'political clout'. Though none of other Werewolf Packs would ever say so, for fear of inciting a savage civil war between them, the Alba Pack was generally seen as the weakest and least ambitious since the Alphas rarely ever wanted to invite confrontations and to challenge the authority of the Ministry of Magic who so oppressively controlled their lives. For them to suddenly call for a Gathering, then something of great importance most definitely must've happened.

Charisa looked back at Remus. "I hope to see you there, Lupin." A small, flirtatious smile crossed her lips. "Maybe we will have the opportunity to discuss old times." Without another word she turned and continued down the alley, her escorts taking positions to her rear and flanks without a word.

"Oh, I'll be there," Remus promised himself. '_Something that could change all our lives? What could that __**possibly**__ be?_'

* * *

**October 17, 1995  
Circle-of-Stones, England**

The meeting about to take place was located in a small valley filled with a light forest. Standing almost dead-center in the valley was a circular clearing that was less than a football field in diameter. And in the center of that stood what looked like to Harry almost a replica of Stonehenge, though nowhere near as degraded, weather-beaten, or in a state of ruins. This Circle-of-Stones, as Hendrick had called it, was of great importance to the Werewolf Packs of Great Britain.

Ahead of them Harry could hear a number of people talking and laughing. An enhanced sense of smell was not required to smell the wood smoke coming from the large bonfire that was burning. The clearing was dominated by the huge bonfire filling the center of the stone circle. It was at least three meters high and the fire blazed brightly. Harry wondered if it was a magical fire or petrol-fuelled, it burned so bright and hot. The perimeter of the clearing was lit by torches on long poles. Clustered near some of the torches were heavily-laden tables filled with food; mostly meats of various types. Harry could easily detect the scents of beef, venison, and pork. Smaller campfires with logs for benches were located not too far from these tables.

But the most remarkable thing was the people to be found within that clearing. Harry reckoned there were close to 500 people standing, dancing, and talking around the fires and tables. Harry was slightly surprised to see that roughly half of them were women. Most of the crowd wore the rougher clothing of outdoorsmen, but he spotted a few in more traditional kilts and others dressed in Muggle biker jeans and leathers. Not a sign of fine clothing or court shoes in sight, which was a huge relief to Harry. This was about as informal as it could get.

"Come along, boy," Hendrick said, keeping his large hand latched onto Harry's shoulder to keep the boy from getting pulled or drawn away from him. "The meeting is about to start."

"Right," Harry mumbled, still taking in the sights with an air of appreciation. Despite how much he was sure their lives were troubling and unhappy, these people didn't seem to let it get the better of them. From most of them, he could sense a rather surprising amount of acceptance. This was the only type of life they were allowed to live, and thus most of them would just take it if it meant they could be left in peace.

"Remember, Harry," Hendrick said, keeping a watchful gaze at the many different Werewolves that were around them. "You are here as a guest. Do not speak unless spoken to, unless you have a death-wish."

"I can take care of myself," Harry said, admittedly somewhat childishly. Seeing his Werewolf guardian's sharp glare, he quickly added, "I'll keep that in mind, I promise."

"…Good," Hendrick growled. A second later, a loud horn sounded, causing much of the partying, eating, and conversations to die out around them as all of the gathered Dark Creatures turned towards the center of the clearing.

"COME!" a voice boomed out. "COME NOW TO DEAL WITH HOW WE CAN SUPPORT THE ONLY WIZARD THAT CAN GIVE US OUR TRUE POWER!"

Through the crowd Harry could see a huge, grizzled looking man in rough, dirty clothing. Even from a distance Harry could see the sickly yellow eyes and he could sense the madness inside of them. Fenrir Greyback had arrived at the Gathering.

Following in Hendrick's shadow and staying as out of sight as he could with the three other Alba Werewolves who were accompanying them, Harry joined them near the fire's edge. He was standing at the back of the group, but could easily hear and see everything ahead of him. And, if he so desired, Harry could step out in front of them in just a few paces. With the massive flames of the bonfire as a dramatic backdrop, the five different Alphas gathered around a large circular stone table. The stone was at just the right size to accommodate the five Werewolf Alphas, their Betas, and a pair of bodyguards, and still have enough room to be comfortable.

"Speak, Alpha Fenrir," one of the Werewolves said in a formal tone.

"The greatest Dark Lord in history has returned to our shores! The Dark Lord plans to drive the weak, corrupt Wizengamot and Ministry from power and replace it with a government for the strong! With the Packs' combined might, we can assist in this great effort! In return the Dark Lord has sworn to offer us the choicest 'recruits' for the Packs! Further, he promises to set aside a great reserve for each Pack to rule and hunt as their own! The bloody Ministry laws that keep us down will be struck down! Any werewolf would be equal to any pureblood wizard!"

"All the Dark Lord asks is that we support him in this campaign. We would strike at remote villages – take the strongest for the Packs and destroy the rest. The Ministry will waste their strength trying to protect everyone while we gain strength with each raid. Then once Dumbledore and the Ministry is humbled we would help control the population until the prey is settled to their new yoke."

"Now this Gathering must decide to support the Dark Lord in his endeavor! Failure to do so will risk the Packs destruction! The Dark Lord does not forget his friends and his enemies do not live long enough to be forgotten! DECIDE NOW!"

Greyback looked like he was about to continue with his rant, but Hendrick slammed one of his hands down on the stone. The blow was hard enough to jostle the entire structure for a few moments, surprising all of the Alphas and thankfully silencing Greyback, though not for long as his narrowed gaze immediately suggested.

"We have heard your pleas time and again, Greyback," Hendrick growled. "Your obsession with this Dark Lord is neither charming nor objective to the safety and security of our people."

"And what would you have us do, Hendrick?" Greyback snapped. "Cower in our homes whenever the Ministry comes to raid, brand, and bully us like sheep for the slaughter?! You are a disgrace to all Werewolves!" Even without his Sorcery, Harry could've felt the tension multiply by several magnitudes at Greyback's blunt and open insult.

But rather than take the insult to heart, Hendrick turned and looked at the other three Alphas. "Rather than waste our time discussing a subject we've already decided on months ago, I wish to bring up a new topic. One I'm sure all of you have been wondering about."

"Yes," one of the Alphas drawled out. This Werewolf was dressed as a woodsman with a flannel shirt and overalls. "This 'revelation' that will change our lives forever. What does that _mean_, Alba?"

"I have recently made the acquaintance of a truly singular young man," Hendrick stated. "He came my village, asking for a simple meal before he'd be on his way. But, during the course of our conversation, he became interested in my Curse and wished to examine it for himself."

"And what is so groundbreaking about that?!" Greyback demanded, very impatient and angry at having his thunder stolen by the otherwise isolated Alpha. "Thousands of Wizards have tried to analyze and cure or remove the Gift for centuries!"

"It turns out, this boy possessed a magical talent that is extremely rare in the Wizarding World," Hendrick continued, ignoring Greyback as he kept his focus on the other Alphas. "As a former Muggle myself, I don't pretend the understand the implications of just what it is he can do that makes him such a danger to them, but the fact remains that he has learned a branch of forbidden magic. And through this magic, he was able to…cleanse me and my Pack."

"What?!" the other Alphas, even Greyback, demanded.

"Cleanse? What do you mean?"

"Who is this 'boy'?!" Greyback snarled, before he tried glancing around Hendrick's large profile. "Is he that boy with the weird _smell_ standing behind you?"

"Indeed," Hendrick acknowledged with a nod, gesturing over his shoulder for Harry to approach. Moving cautiously forward, one hand on each of his weapons, Harry slipped into the firelight to become visible. Thanks in large part to his hair, he wasn't immediately recognized due to his curse scar being hidden from sight and the fact that he no longer needed or wore his glasses anymore. "Tell them, boy."

"I am a Sorcerer," Harry said, watching as the other Alphas all flinched backwards reflexively at the revelation for a second before regaining control of themselves.

"_**WHAT IS THIS?!**_" Greyback hollered, immediately jumping to his feet. "A _SORCERER?!_ _You!_ You're no _Sorcerer!_ Sorcerers are only the _mightiest_ and _darkest_ of all Wizards in _existence! NO MERE __**BOY**__ COULD __**POSSIBLY**__ BE A—_" He was abruptly silenced, hands raising and clasping his neck as his windpipe was suddenly pinched shut.

"You really like to yell, don't you?" Harry asked, his hand held up and extended towards Greyback, his fingers pinched as though he were physically holding the Werewolf's throat shut. This passive demonstration of a power that no Werewolf had ever seen a Wizard use quickly convinced the other Alphas that Harry was indeed what he claimed to be. Glancing around the stone table, Harry saw that all of them (especially Greyback's following) were on edge, ready to lunge for his throat or flee for the forest, whichever was necessary depending on what he did next.

Looking back at the choking Greyback who was quickly starting to purple, he said, "Now why don't you let me and…Alpha Hendrick finish our story?" With that said, he released Greyback, causing him to collapse to the table's surface, heaving for breath.

"Is it safe to assume that that wasn't even a fraction of your power, boy?" one of the Alphas asked. This Alpha was dressed like biker, all leather clothing with some colorful and rather inappropriate tattoos for civilized society.

"Yes," Harry said, nodding, watching as Greyback slowly pushed himself off the table and shot him a hateful but fearful glare. "As I was saying, I am a Sorcerer. And when I met Hendrick here, I could feel the Werewolf Curse on him. It interested me because I'd never felt anything like it, so I asked him to let me study it. And through that, I learned what makes it a Curse."

"And that is…?" the Woodsman Alpha asked, quite interested.

"The Curse was originally created by an ancient Sorcerer," Harry said. "That is why no Witch or Wizard have ever been able to get rid of it. Because they don't access to the knowledge and insights that Sorcery can provide. Anyway, the Curse is a very complex combination of several Charms, Jinxes, and…_compulsions_. Like the compulsion of obedience towards the Curse's creator. But because the creator is long dead, the Curse no longer has a purpose, causing all of those inflicted with it to lash out at the creator's enemies, which were all of humanity."

"The boy was able to remove those compulsions from my Pack," Hendrick said, once again regaining the attentions of the Alphas. "Once he did that, it was like a vast, dark cloud had suddenly been lifted from our minds. We could control ourselves. We could…change ourselves, whenever we desired to! Our Curse is gone!"

Before the other Alphas could object or question such claims, the two guards who stood protectively behind Harry and Hendrick suddenly changed. The entire process of transforming from human to Werewolf could take several minutes for a _normal_ Werewolf, and was usually a very painful process to experience. But the two guards' transformations seemed to shift and flow from them like running water and less than a few seconds were fully transformed into their wolf forms. This predictably had all of the Alphas and the gathered crowd on onlookers recoiling in shock, cries of surprise shrieking out from many of them. To silence the rising din, the two Werewolves leapt up onto two of the larger stone columns and let out loud howls that echoed off into the distance, quickly silencing the crowd as they all gawked at what they were seeing.

Once the din had settled somewhat, Hendrick continued, "As you can see, this isn't just some fantasy. It is _real_. And the boy has agreed to perform this on every one of us."

"Only if they're willing," Harry quickly added. "This is a choice for the _individual_ to make…Although, I do _strongly_ recommend all of you to take it."

"So, _that's_ your game!" Greyback barked, shooting to his feet once again. "You wish to subservient us to your will by 'removing' our Curse? And I suppose that then you'll start asking for 'little favors' from us to repay this act of kindness, right?!"

"Why would I do that?" Harry asked, quite confused.

"Why do you think, boy?!" Greyback shot back. "You want to make us the cannon-fodder for your army and then leave us to rot once you've taken over! Well, _my_ Pack will not have _any_ of it!"

"You really are loyal as a dog, aren't you?" Harry asked, staring at the Werewolf in disgust. "What you claim is exactly what your beloved master will do to you and yours without a second's hesitation."

"_LIES!_" Greyback hissed furious. "And you're not even bother trying to deny that you would either!"

"Because I know you won't believe me even if I say I won't," Harry countered. In response, Greyback let out a loud snarl as he stood up and stormed off, leaving the Gathering utterly. Much to Harry's secret relief, the near-feral Werewolf's bodyguards kept looking back constantly, yearningly. They wanted to get rid of their Curse, or at least control it, as much as anyone would've. That was good news; they'd bring what they'd learned back with them to their Pack.

Turning back to the other Werewolf Alphas, he said, "While I do not claim to understand much about your Packs or your people, I think I do understand that you live under the Ministry of Magic's control with no say in what you can or can't do. But what is the Ministry's control over you truly about?"

Seeing that the Alphas were listening to him, he continued, "It's that they rightfully fear that you can't control yourselves in the light of the moon. They don't want Werewolves to expose their little Garden of Eden to the Muggles. But if you could control yourselves, you'd take away their power and justification to imprison you. And wouldn't that be worth it, all on its own?"

That question caused the Alphas to all chuckle in response.

"But perhaps the better question is this: I'm offering you a chance to change your lives, to learn how to control your Curses. Can you really pass that up?"

There was a short, contemplative silence as the Alphas carefully thought over everything they'd seen, heard, and learned. Then Alpha Biker looked up and asked, "Perhaps a demonstration of your power? Just to prove to us that what you've shown is actually what you claim it is."

"Of course," Harry agreed, nodding in acceptance. "I'll happily do any volunteers, from any of your Packs."

Immediately, several Werewolves moved forward from the crowd. Some of them were staring at him with open yearning and restrained hope. Others were glaring with suspicion as obvious in their eyes as it was in their postures. And yet others just watched him with neutral expressions on their faces, though that still failed to hide their emotions from his Sorcery. Taking a few steps away from the stone table, Harry gestured a young girl who couldn't have been more than seven to come before him.

Ignoring her suspicious glare, Harry stepped up to her as he said, "This will leave you tired and weak for a few minutes. I recommend you take a seat, so you don't fall over when I'm done."

"I'm not kneeling before you!" the girl growled out with a vicious, challenging glare.

Unperturbed, Harry just shrugged as he placed one hand upon her chest and the other on her forehead, "Very well then." Taking just a moment to gather his concentration and connect with the Curse, he wasted no time in seizing hold of it and pulling out the corrupted parts of it from her. As the black mass was extracted, the girl let out a pained and surprised gasp, staggering back a few steps before collapsing to the ground in a graceless heap.

The surrounding crowd of onlookers all stared, gasped, cried out, and all manner of the forms of expression as Harry held up the churning blackness for all to see for the precious few seconds that it could exist before it dispersed on its own. The crowd was cycling through a wide and wild kaleidoscope of emotions, though confusion, fear, hope, and astonishment were among the most common. Harry watched for a moment as the girl's aura fluctuated wildly for a few seconds before it settled down and the girl's body began to recover almost immediately. He smiled slightly as she quickly found the strength to push herself up off the ground, and knocking back her worried parents and neighbors as they tried to verify that she was alright.

Turning to one of the other Werewolves, he called out, "Next?"

"I'll go next," a familiar voice spoke up from behind Harry, causing the boy to jump slightly in surprise.

"Remus? What are you doing here?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking.

"A better question would be: what are _you_ doing here?" Remus demanded, glaring as he waited impatiently for the boy to explain. "Shouldn't you be in _Hogwarts?!_"

"I'll…I'll tell you later," Harry managed to get out as an irrational nervousness overtook him in the presence of his former professor.

Thankfully, a few seconds later, a familiar shift in the magic told him the obvious as the girl immediately began transforming into her wolf-form, for the first time in her life, of her own accord. The small Werewolf let out excited yips and barks as she pranced and jumped about, drawing the jealousy and astonishment of the crowd in the process. Watching as the little wolf enjoyed herself, Harry's small smile returned with greater force. If he was reading the situation right, then those who were born with the Curse were excited to be able to control a part of their 'personalities' that they've never been able to before. And those who were bitten and forcefully converted into Werewolves were happy and relieved beyond mere words because their seeming eternal nightmare was finally coming to an end.

But then he set his jaw and prepared for what was obviously going to be a very long night. After all, he had on the upwards of 500 Werewolves to 'work his magic on' before they'd likely let him go.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) To answer the question that some of you haven't seemed to have gotten, I was inspired by 'The Force Unleashed II: Launch Trailer' for the fight scene of the previous chapter.

**PS**: To any aspiring artists (preferably someone with some talent and experience), I hope I could commission a fanart picture for this story. If anyone's interested, or if you know someone who you think could do it, please PM me (Subject: Fanart Picture). Thank you!


	8. Trials of Spirit and Body

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#08: Trials of Spirit and Body_

**October 22, 1996  
Godric's Hollow**

"_I want to go to Godric's Hollow_."

That simple statement that had been uttered at the first rays of dawn had been what sealed his fate. It had been almost a week since the Gathering. In that time, Harry had met and cleansed each of the Werewolf Packs that desired to be so, which were nearly all of them. All totaled, Harry must've done the process on more than a thousand of Werewolves, nearly the entirety of all the Packs in Great Britain. Apparently, despite the Gathering being recognized as an official 'government' of sorts for the Packs, by the Packs, it wasn't an altogether welcomed practice. Too many wolves gathered in one place could stir the aggressions of many of the rival fighters, provoking fights and brawls that could easily escalate to something far more than was warranted. Thus, while the rogues and lone wolves _had_ to attend the Gatherings, lest they be considered feral and dangerous, the common folk of the Packs were largely exempt unless they desired to join in the festivities. So, when the cleansed Werewolves rushed back to their Packs and homes to spread the news, many more began to flood into Circle-of-Stones in a very short amount of time.

Needless to say, it was a long, repetitive process for Harry that left him utterly exhausted, despite even his Sorcery-augmented stamina.

But during that time and between the occasional 15-minute breaks he allowed himself, Harry met each of the Werewolves in person. If he wasn't mistaken, he had already earned himself a hero-status among them and a new nickname. He would forever be known as 'The Cleanser' and possibly the first real hero that they'd ever had. Harry just took it all with as much grace as he could muster, trying to keep himself as objective as possible. Much to Harry's private amusement, he even noticed that there were a lot of members of Greyback's Pack in line as well. It seemed that the promise of a cure had caused the near-feral wolf to lose a _lot_ of support very quickly even in his own _former_ Pack. Only the truly diehard fanatics remained with him to follow Voldemort, according to the Greyback Pack deserters. The deserters were quickly welcomed into the different Packs with open arms and promises of support and safety. Even the Alba Pack numbers were hugely augmented by the influx of new members by at least a good hundred or more.

And it was during those short 15-minute breaks that Harry was able to talk with Remus. It seemed that the lone Werewolf had been out of touch with the Order of the Phoenix and the general Wizarding community as a whole for several weeks. As such, he hadn't heard any of the recent news concerning Fudge, Umbridge, Hogwarts, or himself being a Sorcerer. Thankfully, after he calmed down from his initial panic attack and took a long, hard evaluation of Harry's personality and current deeds, Remus ultimately decided that Harry hadn't (yet!) been corrupted by the power he wielded. So, there was still time to convert him back to being a Wizard, still time to watch for the warning signs that he'd no doubt be paying extra close attention for from now on.

And all that led to this very moment. After waking up before dawn and going for a light 10-kilometer run to stretch out his muscles, Harry helped himself to some breakfast with Remus and other early-risers. He had been thinking about everything that he had done in the past few days and everything he hoped to do in the near-future. Harry realized that if he ever truly wanted to move on to his future, he'd have to confront that one glaring wound in his past that he hasn't yet been able to.

And that is what led to him and Remus both entering the village of Godric's Hollow so early in the morning.

He was about to go home, to return to the place where he had had a family. And that was in Godric's Hollow where, had it not been for Voldemort, that he would've grown up and spent every school holiday. He could have invited friends to his house. He might even have had brothers and sisters. It would have been his mother who had made his birthday cakes. The life he had lost had hardly ever seemed so real to him as at this moment, when he knew he was about to see the place where it had been taken from him.

Visiting his parents' graves had been a thoroughly depressing experience for Harry. Even with Remus guiding him to them, he was still able to catch glimpses of many different but familiar names in the same area. However, the one name that really stood out to him was 'Dumbledore'. One of the Headmaster's own family was buried in the same graveyard as Harry's family, even Remus verified this assumption as soon as he saw what had stopped Harry in his tracks.

Harry had sensed its presence long before it came into sight for him. There was something…powerful in the air. If not for Sorcery, Harry would've just assumed it was the shattered ruins of the various Charms and protections that had been felled when Voldemort destroyed it. But now he knew better. This…aura in the air was filled with darkness, death, and…sadness. It was a truly profound feeling that touched Harry very deeply as he stared up at the blown open cottage without seeing with his physical eyes.

The hedge had grown wild in the fourteen years since Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble that lay scattered amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy and fallen leaves of autumn. But the right side of the top floor had been blown apart. That, Harry was sure, was where the Killing Curse that Voldemort attempted to use on him had backfired. He and Remus stood at the gate, gazing up at the wreck of what must once have been a cottage just like those that flanked it.

After a long moment of silence between them, Harry stepped forward and grasped the rusted gate. He didn't try to open it, simply wanting to hold some part of the house.

"You're not going to go inside?" Remus asked, watching Harry with a neutral expression.

"I am," Harry said lowly. "There's something…strange here. I sense a lot of twisted and heavy magic wrapped up around this place. It feels dark and…sad."

"Might be echoes of what happened here all those years ago," Remus remarked, looking up at the cottage again with a new and inquisitive stare. Shaking his head, he moved forward to stand next to Harry, "Well then, let's get in there, Harry."

"No, I want to go alone," Harry said. Feeling Remus's gaze on his shoulders, he turned and looked the older man in eye with a pleading but determined gaze. "Please. This is something I _have_ to do on my own."

Staring at Harry for several long moments as indecision warred within him, Remus finally let out a low sigh. "You're not alone, Harry. Not anymore. Don't forget that." With that said, he stepped back to watch and wait.

Turning back to the cottage, Harry finally pushed the gate open, ignoring the rusted metal that squeaked loudly under the movement. The journey to the front door was quiet, but very tense for Harry. The tension was at an all-time high as he reached forward and grasped the rusted doorknob, which squeaked and groaned loudly in protest at the movement of opening. A strange feeling shivered through him as he passed across the threshold, the door closing shut behind him in a loud but somehow muted slam. But Harry's mind was elsewhere as he tried understand just what he was feeling. It was like someone had reached across universes to touch him. Unable to stop himself, he reached up to where his scar was prickling into his forehead like a thousand burning needles.

Suddenly…

_The night was wet and windy, two children dressed as pumpkins waddling across the square, and the shop windows covered in paper spiders, all the tawdry Muggle trappings of a world in which they did not believe… And he was gliding along, that sense of purpose, power, and rightness in him that he always knew on these occasions… Not anger, that was for weaker souls than he… but triumph, yes… He waited for this, he had hoped for it…_

"_Nice costume, mister!"_

_He saw the small boy's smile falter as he ran near enough to see beneath the hood of the cloak, saw the fear cloud his painted face. Then the child turned and ran away… Beneath the robe, he fingered the handle of his wand… One simple movement and the child would never reach his mother…but unnecessary, quite unnecessary…_

_And along a new and darker street he moved. Now his destination was in sight at last, the Fidelius Charm broken, though they did not know yet… And he made less noise than the dead leaves slithering along the pavement as he drew level with the dark hedge, and stared over it…_

_They had not drawn the curtains. He saw them quite clearly in their little sitting room, the tall black-haired man in his glasses, making puffs of colored smoke erupt from his wand for the amusement of the small black-haired boy in his blue pajamas. The child was laughing and trying to catch the smoke, to grab it in his small fist…_

_A door opened and the mother entered, saying words he could not hear, her long dark-red hair falling over her face. Now the father scooped up the son and handed him to the mother. He threw his wand down upon the sofa and stretched, yawning…_

_The gate creaked a little as he pushed it open, but James Potter did not hear. His white hand pulled the wand beneath his cloak and pointed it at the door, which burst open. He was over the threshold as James came sprinting into the hall. It was easy, too easy. He had not even picked up his wand…_

"_Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"_

_Hold him off, without a wand in his hand! He laughed before casting the curse. "Avada Kedavra!"_

_The green light filled the cramped hallway. It lit the pram pushed against the wall. It made the banisters glare like lightning rods, and James Potter fell like a marionette whose strings were cut…_

_He could hear her screaming from the upper floor, trapped, but as long as she was sensible, she, at least, had nothing to fear… He climbed the steps, listening with faint amusement to her attempts to barricade herself in… She had no wand upon her either… How stupid they were, and how trusting, thinking that their safety lay in friends, that weapons could be discarded even for moments…_

_He forced the door open, cast aside the chair and boxes hastily piled against it with one lazy wave of his wand…and there she stood, the child in her arms. At the sight of him, she dropped her son into the crib behind her and threw her arms wide, as if this would help, as if in shielding him from sight she hoped to be chosen instead…_

"_Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

"_Stand aside, you silly girl… Stand aside, now."_

"_Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"_

"_This is my last warning—"_

"_Not Harry! Please…have mercy…have mercy…Not Harry! Not Harry! Please—I'll do anything—"_

"_Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!" He could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them all…_

_The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband. The child had not cried all this time. He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up into the intruder's face with a kind of bright interest. Perhaps the boy was thinking it was his father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights, and his mother would pop up any moment, laughing—_

_He pointed his wand very carefully into the boy's face. He wanted to see it happen, the destruction of this one, inexplicable danger. The child began to cry. It had seen that he was not James. He did not like it crying. He had never been able to stomach the small ones whining in the orphanage— "Avada Kedavra!"_

_And then he broke. He was nothing, nothing but pain and terror. He must hide himself! Not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away…far away…_

"No," he moaned.

_He was inside a locked chest, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything but wait. So he waited, watching as that __**disgusting**__ creature made its regular visits to him, glaring and cursing at him under its breath continuously. Oh, __**if only**__ he had his wand…_

"No," he moaned.

_The snake rustled on the fine carpet, next to its master and soulmate. Enjoying the light rubs upon its head that its master administered to her. There was a bright, large fire that burned nearby, filling the room with a comforting warmth…_

"NO!" Harry yelled, finally collecting himself and wrenching himself from the visions he was trapped in. Blinking, he found himself standing, frozen, staring at the very spot where the body of his father had fallen when Voldemort arrived on the scene. The body was of course long gone, buried next to his wife in the cemetery. Unnoticed by him, tears were streaming down his cheeks and dripping to the floorboards below him.

What was that that he had just seen? A long repressed memory of his baby-years? A memory fragment from Voldemort that had reached him through their shared bond? Why had he been the Dark Lord to begin with?!

Taking his hand away from where it had been previously been clutching his scar, Harry just stared at the large smear of blood that coated his palm as it came away. This was something he had gotten use to a long time ago, so he paid the blood and his bleeding scar no mind. Instead, other questions began to race through his mind. What was that thing he had been? That which was locked away inside a chest? And why was Kreacher there, angry at whatever it was?

"So, you've finally come," a silky and terribly familiar voice spoke up. Harry's head instantly snapped up as he spotted Lord Voldemort come striding into the room, seeming to glide across the floor without actually touching it. "I was wondering when you'd grace me with your presence, Harry Potter."

"Voldemort," Harry hissed back, automatically grabbing his lightsaber and holding it up in preparation for the fight that was to come. But when he pushed the ignition button, the blade didn't spring to life as it always had before. "What the?!"

"Did you really think a fancy light stick would be enough to defeat me?" Voldemort asked snidely, sneering in triumph as he watched Harry struggle to ignite his beloved weapon.

But as Harry's frustrations mounted, he began applying too much strength and power, causing the emitter shroud to snap and separate from the hilt. This damage would take weeks of careful transfiguration, repair charms, and realignment to get back into working condition! Dropping his broken weapon, Harry withdrew his wand. But Voldemort merely swatted it from his hand with one casual flick of his own, sending it flying into the former sitting room and disappearing among the debris strewn about.

"I don't need my lightsaber or wand to destroy you!" Harry yelled angrily, thrusting both his hands forward. But no blast of power was released. Voldemort just continued to sneer at him, cackling slightly in conceit. "No, my Sorcery! What's wrong?! What's going on?!"

"Apparently, someone's not quite as skilled or powerful as they thought they were," Voldemort gloated, reveling in Harry's mounting fear and rage. "Time to die!"

"No, this isn't real," Harry said, fumbling for an explanation to these logic-defying mishaps he just happened to encounter. "What is this? Some kind of illusion?! Why? About what?!"

"Keep telling yourself, boy," Voldemort said, raising his wand in preparation of once again recasting the spell he'd been yearning to cast for more than fourteen years. "It'll make your demise that much more satisfying."

"My parents dying?" Harry was saying, more to himself than he was trying to listen to Voldemort. "That's the reason I came here! To put my past behind me! My lightsaber breaking? Maybe my fear of growing too dependent on it? Losing my wand? Happens all the time! My Sorcery not working? I've lived most of my life without it! I don't need my Sorcery to do great things!"

"Are those going to be your last words?" Voldemort demanded, torn between amusement and annoyance at Harry's continued ignoring him. "Feeble excuses to justify your worthlessness?"

Finding the courage that had long driven him to move forward, even when he faced seemingly hopeless odds, Harry looked up and stared right into Voldemort's red and unblinking eyes. "I'm not afraid of you. You're just a figment of my imagination. A memory." Standing up straight as he faced the Dark Lord, he finished saying, "Go back to where you belong."

Snarling, the Dark Lord jabbed his wand forward. "Avada Kedavra!" The deadly green beam raced at Harry, who stood in place and glared at Voldemort unflinchingly. Then the beam passed right through him, vanishing the moment it exited his backside, along with the phantom that was Voldemort.

Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Harry blinked and looked around. The room was largely unchanged. Reaching for his belt, he found his wand and lightsaber both still strapped there, unbroken and whole as they had been prior to him entering this cottage. Sighing in heavy relief, Harry suddenly found his Sorcery senses once again flowing with the constant influx of information he'd long since grown accustomed to. He hadn't realized it until just now, but his Sorcery had all but vanished as soon as he'd entered. But now that the visions seemed to be over at long last, Harry found that the aura of the cottage had changed. It was no longer flowing with darkness and sadness…just an air of serene acceptance. The magic in the air had finally done the job it had been 'desiring' to do for more than a decade and now it was gone.

As he was starting to turn around to leave, a faint tickling at the edge of his senses stopped him. Turning back to where he could feel it coming from, Harry moved cautiously through the house, careful not to step on any floor boards that looked unstable or rotted. Entering what seemed to be an office, Harry looked around the room for a moment before he zeroed in on the desk. There was something…waiting in that desk.

Taking a seat in the creaking chair that was next to the desk, Harry gingerly began opening the various drawers. Most of whatever had been inside the drawers had been shredded by vermin over the years, or taken by looters. But as he was shuffling through the leaflets that remained of several books, his fingers scraped across something smooth and metallic. Digging in deeper, he grabbed and withdrew that metallic object he'd found.

Holding it up in the faint light, Harry gazed in curiosity and awe at what he held. It was a small cube, barely the size of an apple. The edges and corners of the cube were lined with gold and, if not for the years of neglect, would undoubtedly have been shining. It was the center of the cube that really caught his attention. It was quite clear that the gold corners were little more than a casing for the faintly glowing crystal sphere that was encased within. The center of the crystal was lit by a faint spark of blue-white light. The light seemed to ripple outwards from that spark, filling the sphere with little pulses and waves that faded gradually as they neared the edges of the crystal's surface. But it was that spark that really drew his attention. It pulsed faintly with an energy that was akin to that of the Werewolves he'd met, Sorcery that had been warped and changed into something else.

In all, it was a truly beautiful object, but one unlike anything Harry had ever seen or heard of.

"What are you?" he couldn't help whispering in awe. When he predictably didn't receive an answer, Harry slipped it into his pocket for later examination and experimentation.

Returning back to Remus, Harry found the man leaning upon the fence with his side, clearly quite patiently as he waited for the boy to return. Hearing the boy approach, the former Werewolf turned and stared with concern and curiosity at Harry. Seeing something strange in his expression or posture or maybe the smeared blood on his forehead, Remus asked, "How do you feel?"

"Different, but the same," Harry said, not really sure how to fluently describe just what he felt after experiencing such strange visions.

"What happened in there? You were gone for almost a half hour."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. If sure felt a lot longer than that. "Well, the short version is that I saw how my parents died."

"You okay?" the older man asked, immediately concerned.

"I'm fine," Harry said. "It's…nice to finally have closure with that." After a long moment, Remus finally nodded in agreement. As he did, Harry dug into his pocket and pulled out the gold and crystal trinket he'd found. "Found this. Do you know what it is?"

"Well, I'll be…" Remus uttered in surprise as he stared down at the cube. "It was still here? I'd have thought the Ministry would've found and confiscated that long before now."

"What is it?" Harry repeated, somewhat impatiently.

"Your father became something of a collector of rare or obscure magical artifacts towards the end," Remus answered. "And this was his pride and joy. I don't know where he got it or found it, but he told me that this is one of the few true crystal balls of the ancients."

"Crystal balls?" Harry asked surprised, staring at the cube much more closely. Now that he knew what to look for, he could indeed see the curved edges of the crystal sliding inwards from the gold corners. "You mean like they use in Divination? Ron showed me the one he used once, but it didn't look anything like this."

"Of course not, Harry," Remus said, a slight smile on his aging face as he subconsciously adjusted to his old professor voice as he taught the boy further in the mysteries of magic. "The crystal balls of today are cheap knockoffs. Much knowledge and history has been lost on the origins and uses of crystal balls. Modern Seers and Prophets developed their arts from only a small set of rumors that have endured about crystal balls over the centuries. For instance, crystal balls were said to contain a vast trove of secret or forbidden knowledge that only the properly trained could access. The knowledge was so vast that these users had to spend hours in secluded meditation just to navigate it and find what they desired to learn."

"Hence the practice of gazing into a crystal ball's depths," Harry uttered quietly to himself as realization dawned on him.

"Exactly," Remus agreed. "As you can imagine, something happened about fifteen to eighteen centuries ago that had many of the crystal balls be hunted down and destroyed. Very few still exist today, and no one knows how to access them anymore."

"Is that why it's encased in gold?" Harry asked, as he tentatively started examining the cube again. "I can sense…something from the crystal ball, but the gold seems to be blocking me somehow."

"You can sense… It's Sorcery?" Remus asked, both startled and, once it had time to sink in, understanding. Then realization suddenly dawned on him. "Of _course_, that was when Sorcerers had started being actively hunted down and killed! No wonder no Wizard or Witch could enter a crystal ball, they don't have Sorcery!"

"Remus, why's it wrapped up in gold?" Harry answered, somewhat impatiently. His yearning to 'enter' the crystal ball and explore its untapped knowledge growing. '_I wonder if this is how Hermione feels all the time_.'

"Gold is a magical insulator," the man said, gazing down at Harry sternly. "That is one of the reasons that Witches and Wizards can't and don't perform magic on it, because we _can't_. Gold is immune to all…_known_ forms of magic."

"So whoever's this crystal ball belonged to probably was trying to protect their secrets," Harry said in understanding.

Remus could only shrug in agreement. "Come, Harry, we really should be moving on. I'm sure the Order is very concerned for your well-being at this point."

Sighing as he stuffed the crystal ball back into his pocket, Harry turned and looked up at the man again. "Can we make one more stop first, please? I made a promise and I want to show that I'm following through on it. This one is important to not only me, but someone else."

Sighing himself, Remus nodded in acceptance. "Where are we going?"

"Warwickshire."

* * *

**Warwickshire, England**

Dudley could say with absolute certainty that this was the most aggravating time of his life. Following his parents' sudden and unexpected comatose states, the civil services had had no choice but to transfer him over to his Aunt Marge's care until he was sufficiently old enough to care himself and get a job. He found after some digging that he needed to be at least sixteen to enroll in a military academy, which meant that he'd have to wait until next year to even consider trying to get accepted. And Aunt Marge and her many bulldogs, he found, were highly unpleasant to live with for a substantial length of time.

The woman seemed unable to decide how to treat him. Either she'd bark and snap at him for doing something wrong that she never bothered to explain why it was wrong in the first place, merely ordering him to obey her like he was one of her dogs. Or she'd try to coddle him like he was still a five-year-old child and had the mentality of one, which was both embarrassing and infuriating to him. Aunt Marge had always been a favorite of his and he'd always enjoyed her few visits because she so rarely came down to Surrey. But now he could see that it was only because he'd never had to a chance to see the 'real her'. Dudley had quickly found his childhood love of his only living Aunt deteriorating into a teenaged repulsion as she constantly pestered him to obey her house rules and tried to dominate his life.

Never before had Dudley ever considered his school to be a haven of freedom, but that's what it had quickly become. His classmates were all friendly, but didn't immediately throw themselves at him to be his friends. They treated him with a type of reserved observance. It wasn't until a week had gone by at his new school that he'd learned they'd heard a rumor of his parents and were treating him like he was a potentially dangerous homicidal delinquent. That realization had hurt him, _deeply_, and it still stained his relationship with them. He became recluse who grew increasingly obsessive in his studies of mathematics, science, and computers. Once done with his schoolwork, he'd head over to the local gym and start his bodybuilding training. The bodybuilding process was very slow and painful going for a boy who had never been physically active his entire life previously. Nonetheless, he had still made a fair deal of progress in the two months he'd been enduring it and he was finding himself rather enjoying the physical exhaustions now that he was slowly becoming accustomed to it.

And that was where Dudley was preparing to head to now. It was Sunday, all his schoolwork was finished, and Aunt Marge was thankfully sleeping in this morning. Since he'd given Marge's many bulldogs their morning meal in the exact specified quantities and food types as his aunt constantly harped on him to, he could now easily slip away without her being able to lecture him about slacking off his chores.

"Now I know why she always smelled like a dog," a voice said from behind Dudley as he was tying his shoes. Spinning around, Dudley blinked in surprise as he saw his cousin and an unfamiliar man standing behind at the screen door to outside.

"Harry?!" Dudley said, surprised. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts?"

For some reason, that question caused the boy to both smile and wince. "That's the second time someone has asked that. I'll explain everything. Can we come in?"

Hesitating for only a moment, Dudley quickly waved the newcomers inside. Entering the sitting room, Dudley was surprised when Harry pulled him into a brief hug which he awkwardly returned. But after only a moment, they pulled away and Dudley turned towards the stranger. "Who are you, sir?"

"Oh, where are my manners?" the man chided himself. "I am Remus Lupin, a former professor of Harry's and a long-time friend of his parents."

"H-Hello," Dudley said, hesitantly. Though he'd stated that he wanted to help Harry kill that Dark Lord, he still wasn't quite over his instilled fear of all things magical. And while the man's appearance was quite ordinary and friendly-looking, if a bit haggard, he knew that appearances were extremely deceptive, especially in the magical world. "I'm Dudley Dursley."

"Dursley?" the man said in obvious surprise, glancing down at Harry questioningly. But Harry just shrugged as he met his glance briefly. Turning back to him, Mr. Lupin said, "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Dursley. And I'm very sorry about your loss."

"I-It's okay," Dudley partially lied. He wasn't over their deaths, but he was having an easier time dealing with it now. Not much, but enough to get by. But his anger towards those who'd done it and allowed it to happen burned as brightly as ever.

"That's actually why I wanted to come see you," Harry said, reaching into one of his pockets. "I've got some good news, bad news, and some really bad news for you, Dudley. Which do you want first?"

Blinking, Dudley just shrugged. "How about all of it?"

Chuckling slightly, Harry pulled what looked like a pistol out of his pocket. How he managed to fit it there, Dudley tried not to think about as he was handed the device. Taking it, he looked it over very carefully, noticing several obvious differences to the standard appearance of a normal firearm pistol. The most noticeable of these changes was the large clip that was attached to the underside of the pistol, just ahead of the trigger. Sliding back the top of the pistol, Dudley saw not the internal workings of a gunpowder magazine firing chamber, but what looked like a faintly glowing crystal and a churning blue liquid he couldn't recognize encased in a transparent filtering tube that led up into the barrel, just in front of the crystal.

Sliding the top back into place, Dudley looked up at his grinning cousin as he suddenly realized what he was holding. "Is this what I think it is?"

Humming in acknowledgement as he nodded, Harry said, "It's still largely a prototype, but it works just fine. And you've enough plasma for at least twenty shots before reloading. I've also made a few other goodies, but those can wait for later."

Despite himself, an eager grin crossed Dudley's face at the thought of yet more surprises his cousin may yet have in store. Forcing himself to concentrate and not be distracted by the blaster in his hand, Dudley set it aside. "Okay, if that's the good news, what's the bad and really bad?"

"I've learned a new type of…magic," Harry said, whispering 'magic' as he glanced over his shoulder towards where Dudley knew Aunt Marge was sleeping. Looking back at him, Harry's face was a strange twist of weariness and excitement. "I've learned something called Sorcery. But, in simple terms, I suppose you could say I've learned how to use the Force of Star Wars."

"What?!" Dudley couldn't help yelping. "Really?! _Show me!_"

Harry shrugged lightly as he gazed around the room, lifting one hand slightly. Under Dudley's wide eyes, various pieces of furniture and knickknacks of the sitting room began rising up and floating in the air for a moment. As they settled back down, Harry's gaze turned back to him and there was a hint of something different in them. "Unfortunately, this type of magic is apparently outlawed and _highly_ illegal in the Wizarding World."

"What?!" Dudley couldn't help asking. "Why?"

"A few of its previous users over the ages turned into Sith Lords and tried to devastate or control the world," Harry said, his eyes narrowing in anger at the thought.

"Seriously?" he asked, a deadpan stare in his eyes and his voice flat. Harry just nodded in acknowledgement.

"Wait, if it's illegal, and you're here…"

"Yup," Harry nodded, admitting to his cousin's revelation. "They found out and weren't too happy with me."

"What happened?"

"The bigot of a Minister tried to arrest me and have me throw in prison without a trial," Harry admitted, a twitch of his lips hinting at something in his memory. "I made a point of embarrassing him before I had to run. But I'm now expelled from Hogwarts and a wanted fugitive in the Wizarding World."

"That…sucks," Dudley said, unable to find any other words to properly enunciate himself. It was hard to imagine, being on the run from the entire country he was born and raised in.

"But before I left, I…" Harry trailed off, a look of uncertainty on his face. But as he looked up again at Dudley, that uncertainty soon faded away to resignation. "I found out who sent the Dementors after me this summer. Who was responsible for…their conditions."

Perking up instantly as his gaze narrowed, Dudley all but growled out, "Who?"

"Dolores Jane Umbridge," Harry said. "Last I heard, she was the right hand man of the Minister of Magic, the 'High Inquisitor' of Hogwarts, and one of the new professors at the school. She was basically the Minister's spy in Hogwarts. But she sent the Dementors to try and shut me up from speaking against the Ministry about Voldemort's return…or maybe to help the Dark Lord by removing me."

"She definitely is the type to underhanded tactics to backstab her opponents," Mr. Lupin agreed quietly from beside Harry.

Mulling over this information for a moment, Dudley finally nodded. "Thank you for telling me, Harry."

"How have you been?" Harry asked suddenly, no doubt trying to break the tension that had formed upon these many unhappy revelations. "Having a good time Aunt Marge? Did you ever manage to get into that academy you wanted?"

"No," Dudley answered, his mood quickly souring. "Things have been terrible lately."

"Why?"

"_Uuuughhh, my head!_" a loud voice whined from the master bedroom, causing several of the dogs in the room to awaken and begin barking at one another. There was even a couple of thumping noises that sounded suspiciously like bottles hitting the wooden carpeted floor. "Ugh, shut that racket, you mangy mongrels! Dudley, where's my tea?"

"That's why," Dudley said simply, frowning as he glared at Marge's room. He had hoped to be long gone by this time so he didn't have to deal with his hung-over aunt.

As he was moving to stand up, a faint scratching at one of the windows drew the trio's attention. Though it took a moment, Dudley was able to recognize the fluttering form outside as Harry's snow owl pet that he had often had to keep locked up in a cage in years' past.

"Hedwig?" Harry asked, sounding and looking quite concerned as he quickly moved over to the window and opened it, letting the owl inside. The owl landed upon his offered arm, flapping her wings in obvious agitation. "What is it, girl?"

"Something's wrong," the man, _Mr. Lupin_ Dudley had to remind himself, said, his nose visibly twitching as he took deep but quick sniffs of the air. "Something—no, _someone_ is approaching. They smell like blood, steel, and…_death_."

"How do you know that?" Dudley asked wearily, grabbing his new blaster pistol and holding it ready.

"I'm a werewolf," Mr. Lupin said.

"_He's here!_" Harry hissed suddenly, before Dudley had a chance to really react to what Mr. Lupin had revealed. He was glaring out of the opened window. Turning back to the others, he said, "It's time to leave!"

"Agreed," Remus said, quickly standing up and following the boy as they hurriedly rushed for the door.

"What's going on?" Dudley asked, following them out the door, not wanting to be left out.

"Dudley!" Marge called out once again, but Dudley ignored her as he followed the pair outside.

What he saw when he exited the house was a tall, cloaked being striding towards the house from down the country lane that Aunt Marge lived on. The cloaked figure's clothes were obviously frayed, threadbare, and were in serious need of replacement from the number of holes and slashes that were in them. Though the man's cloak hid most of his figure and clothes from view, it was clear that he wore high boots with his pants stuffed inside them, a dark leather belt holding them up, and loose dark shirt. It was also obvious to Dudley that the man wore a set of chainmail under his shirt, as the clinking of steel and the small flashes of metal between the cuts and holes of the clothes made abundantly clear. But the most interesting detail that stood out to Dudley was the large broadsword that was strapped to the man's waist, which one of his hands was resting upon.

"Who are you?" Harry called out, an edge of warning in his voice that Dudley hadn't heard before.

At first the man didn't reply or move, just stared at the three of them for a moment. Then, just as Dudley's patience was starting to wane, the man's free hand moved to his waist pocket and extracted something that sparkled in his palm. Dudley couldn't see what it was, but it was clear that once he held up in front of his shadowed face, that he started gazing quite pointedly at Harry. Harry quickly noticed this, hands sliding to his belt where his lightsaber and wand were both strapped.

"So, it is you," a hoarse voice with a harsh accent of some kind uttered from the depths of that black hood. "The Awakened one."

That simple statement caused Harry to flinch in surprise for some reason that Dudley didn't understand.

"Who are you?!" Mr. Lupin demanded, stepping ahead of Harry and assuming a much more threatening posture, as though he was preparing to leap for the man. "Answer me now!"

"You won't get a second chance!" Dudley called out, stepping to the side as he kept his blaster leveled on the stranger.

"You two are unneeded," the stranger stated in a cold, almost robotic voice. Lifting his arm off his sword, the man quickly whipped out a short black wand that he used in one efficient sweeping gesture as he grunted out, "_Be gone!_"

An unseen force slammed into Dudley and Remus, knocking them tumbling to the side a considerable distance. Though Mr. Lupin was fast to bounce back to his feet, Dudley was a bit less coordinated and took a few seconds longer to recover. And by the time he did crawl back to his feet, he couldn't help yelping in surprise at the monstrous creature that now stood only a few short meters away from him. The werewolf spared him barely a glance before lunging forward on all fours towards their attacker, snarling the whole way.

Much to Dudley's later shame, he kept his eyes on the monster form of Mr. Lupin as it sprinted across the gap between them and the stranger. It wasn't until he actually saw the strange once again easily throw the werewolf aside, continuing his quiet conversation with Harry as though they were alone, that Dudley finally remembered what was happening. Tearing his gaze away from the monster, he hefted up his blaster and took aim. But even as he pulled the trigger, it was too late to stop what was going to happen. He watched it all happen in seeming slow motion.

Whatever the man had been saying, Harry had fervently denied or declined. The man then wasted no time in jabbing his wand forward, unleashing a large barrage of spells that Dudley couldn't recognize, even though he'd been reading and studying Harry's old schoolbooks like a religious zealot. Though Harry was able draw his own wand and cast a hurried shield charm, it only deflected the spells in his immediate vicinity. The other spells shot right past him and slammed into Aunt Marge's rather modest home. Whatever those spells were, they blasted right through the feeble wood and mortar of the house, destroying and incinerating everything they came into contact with as they shot through the structure. Thankfully for Dudley's later peace of mind, he never heard the short cry of surprise or agony that momentarily filled the house, or saw his dear unloved aunt and several of her many dogs become reduced to little more than a large blood stains on the walls and floor.

It was as the barrage was exiting the back of the house that Dudley's shot finally reached the man, slamming into his armored shoulder, throwing him haphazardly to the side, which time _finally_ accelerated back up to its normal flow. The plasma bolt sheered right through the chainmail and punched into the compact muscle and tender flesh beneath, causing the man to reflexively cry out in pain. The blow was so powerful and unexpected that the man was thrown into a slight turn as his feet were knocked askew, disrupting his otherwise perfect balance. Harry capitalized on the distraction by shooting a series of ropes from his wand, rapidly binding the man's limbs tightly together. Seeing the obvious opening, the monstrous Mr. Lupin leapt into the air with his clawed arms swept back for a pair of lethal slashes.

However, just before the werewolf could land its hit, the man vanished in a strange twisting motion. Mr. Lupin landed roughly upon where the man had been standing, claws digging deeply into the dense gravel road, head twisting and turning rapidly as its nose flared with powerful sniffs of the air, searching.

"Don't worry, Remus," Harry called out, drawing Dudley and the monster's attentions. "He's long gone. I can faintly feel him now, about ten kilometers north and moving farther away. He's not coming back…not yet at least."

Then, before Dudley's gawking gaze, the monster seemed to shrink in on itself as it reformed into the man it had once been. Once he was sufficiently human enough to ask, Mr. Lupin said, "What did he want? What was he saying? I only caught slight phrases."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "He said I had a choice to serve his master or die. I tried to ask who his master was, if he was Voldemort, but he just demanded an answer. I said 'no' and he attacked."

Mr. Lupin nodded, apparently that was also much of what he'd also pieced together from what he'd heard. Then the man looked over at Dudley and shot him a small smile and a nod. "Good shot, Mr. Dursley! You may have saved our lives today."

"But I…I didn't do anything," Dudley said, feeling incomprehensibly small and weak as he stared at the powerful forms of his cousin and the shapeshifting monster of a man before him. "It was just a lucky shot."

"There's no such thing as 'luck,' Dudley," Harry said, also smiling at him encouragingly. "If you hadn't distracted him with that shot, I wouldn't have been able to bind him and Remus wouldn't have gotten him to flee. You did save our lives today."

A faint feeling of warmth filled Dudley at their praises. He had never been in a real life-or-death fight before, so he hadn't known how to act or behave. He just went along with the flow, acting when he could, doing what he could. They were doing the exact same, but more and better than he had. Why were they praising him? But nonetheless, it felt…nice. Glancing over at his cousin, he found Harry staring at him with a knowing gleam in his eyes and small smile on his face. Harry knew exactly what was going through Dudley's head at that time, for it had often gone through his own since he'd arrived at Hogwarts and been put in dangerous situations.

* * *

**#12 Grimmauld Place, London**

If Harry's first time arriving at Grimmauld Place left him with an impression of foreboding darkness, decay, and death, the second time guaranteed it. Dark Magic was so tightly bound up in the house that it almost seemed to have a physical presence to Harry's enhanced senses. It was cold, highly threatening, and menacing, even Harry's Gryffindor courage momentarily failed him when they arrived and he got his first true feel of it. Thankfully for his peace of mind, neither of his companions noticed his duress.

Remus had teleported them from the ruins of Aunt Marge's home to an alley next to the street outside Grimmauld Place. As his first exposure to the highly unpleasant sensation, Dudley was not taking it well at all. He'd fallen to his knees and was in the process of dry heaving his empty stomach. Fortunately for Dudley, Remus and Harry had arrived early enough in the morning that they'd caught him before he could eat breakfast. Otherwise, there most assuredly have been a giant puddle of partially eaten food under the poor boy by this time.

"Don't worry, Mr. Dursley," Remus was saying as he was casting minor healing charms on him to help ease his pain and nausea. "That's a common reaction for most first-timers. You'll get used to it in time."

"Ugh…There's gonna be…a 'next time'?!" Dudley groaned out, already looking pale at the thought of a repeat performance. "Can't we just…take a bus or…something?"

"Maybe…" Remus acquiesced consolingly. "But Apparation is much faster."

"Where are we going?" Dudley asked as he pushed himself to his feet, looking around the street curiously.

"See that sign there?" Remus asked, pointing out the missing '12'. "We're going to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, childhood home of one of our friends."

"Okay, but where's—HEY! Where'd that place come from?!" Dudley gasped, suddenly seeing the additional house that hadn't been there seconds ago.

"We'll explain later," Harry said, finally overcoming his initial fear of the darkness and mustering up his courage once again. "Just be patient, Dudley. There's going to be a lot of awkward questions and unpleasant people inside who won't be happy to see us, _either_ of us."

Thankfully, the house was mostly empty at this point. That was because most of the Order members were either at work or at their individual homes still sleeping or preparing for the day. Harry could sense only four people inside; Sirius, Buckbeak, Kreacher, and Dumbledore. '_What is Dumbledore doing here?_' Harry wondered to himself. '_Shouldn't he be at Hogwarts?—Oh no…_'

"Hey, _Sirius!_" Harry called out once they were fully inside. "We're here with _big_ news!"

"_**HARRY?!**_" Sirius cried out from the second floor, followed by a cracking sound as he literally teleported to the entrance and scooped up the nearest boy in his arms tightly. "_You're finally here! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!_ What's this I hear of you being a _Sorcerer?!_ Don't you know how _dangerous_ such magic is?! Congratulations on becoming a _convict_, now we can go on the run _together!_"

"Eh, Sirius?" Harry asked from his position next to him, finally managing to break into his godfather's fast-paced ranting and questions. "I'm over _here_. That's my _cousin_ you're squeezing to death."

Slacking off his tight embrace as his looked over towards where the voice had come from, Sirius saw that Harry was indeed off to the side. Looking down into his arms, he saw a boy he didn't immediately recognize and quickly released him as he bounced back a step or two. He made a feeble attempt at ignoring Remus's muted chuckling as he quickly brushed off imaginary dust from the new boy's shoulders. "Sorry about that, lad. Just grabbed the first boy I saw."

"N-N-No worries," Dudley managed to stutter out, staring up at the strange-looking and admittedly scary appearance that Sirius still wore after all his years in Azkaban. "I'm Dudley Dursley, Harry's cousin. N-Nice to meet you, sir."

Nodding almost benevolently to the newly-introduced Dudley, Sirius suddenly turned and swept up Harry into an exact mirror image crushing embrace as the one that'd held Dudley seconds earlier. This time without the shouting, Sirius pulled back and glared demandingly at his godson, "Now, _talk_, Harry. _Where_ have you _been_ this past week? You've had the Ministry _and_ the Order up in arms for _days_ because no one's been able to _find_ you!"

"I'll tell you everything in a little bit," Harry promised, nodding his head. "But there's something else I'd like to do first. I need to speak with Kreacher."

"Why him?" Sirius asked, his voice taking on a noticeable tone of disgust.

"I think he _might_ have something of Voldemort's that he's been hiding here from us," Harry said honestly, knowing that would garner an immediate response from his godfather.

"_**KREACHER!**_" Sirius yelled instantly as he spun around.

"Yes, what do you want, Master?" Kreacher asked as he appeared ver

y shortly afterwards. A quick glance around and he saw the newest visitors. "The mangy werewolf, unworthy Halfblood, and a new filth have entered my Mistress's home again? How much longer will this—"

"Kreacher!" Sirius interrupted loudly and sternly. "What's this I hear about you hiding something of _Voldemort's_ in my house?!"

Kreacher visibly flinched back in surprise as he stared up at his hated master with wide eyes. "Kreacher knows nothing about any such thing." In a much quieter, but still audible voice, he said to himself, "How does Master know about Master's locket? It's impossible!"

"Bring me this _locket_, this _instant!_" Sirius barked angrily as he glared down at the house-elf. A few moments later, Kreacher reappeared tentatively holding a large locket with a stylized 'S' on it and held it out quite unwillingly to his master.

"This is it?" Sirius demanded, glaring down at Kreacher as he held the locket out for verification. "This is the real one? Not some fake that you grabbed to fool us with?"

"It's the real one, Sirius," Harry answered for the house-elf, his eyes glued to the golden locket. "I can…I can feel something dark, twisted, and disgusting coming from it. But it's weird, like…it's trying to hide its presence within itself."

"How you know so much about Master Regulus's locket?" Kreacher asked, glaring up at Harry in confusion and curiosity. "Kreacher told no one about the locket."

"What does my brother have to do with this?" Sirius demanded, interrupting Harry from answering the house-elf. Then he seemed to second guess himself, "Never mind, he was a Death Eater scum. That's all I need to know about the how and why. What is it doing _here_, though?!"

"Perhaps it would be better if we relocated to a more comfortable setting than just standing in the hallway, Sirius?" a familiar old voice spoke up from down the hall where the kitchen was. "Might I suggest the kitchen and thus our visitors might explain while we have breakfast?"

"Breakfast sounds good," Dudley said in a quiet voice, voting wholly in favor of Dumbledore's opinion. "Just no weird food, please?"

"Some eggs, potatoes, and bacon does sound nice," Harry agreed, while also trying to reassure his cousin of the familiar types of food they had.

"…Fine," Sirius grunted out, quite obviously very unhappy at having to postpone his interrogation of his apparent treacherous house-elf.

The next hour and a half was quite possibly the longest breakfast that any of them had ever had. It was filled with lengthy discussions and seemingly endless questions. The first topic brought up was quite obviously where Harry had been and what he had been doing. Both Dumbledore and Sirius had been nearly struck dumb to learn that Harry had come into contact with one of the Werewolf Packs and cleansed them of their Curse, changing it into something stronger and much more controllable. At first neither of them truly believed that what he had done was actually possible…until Remus unexpected transformed right at the dinner table.

Suffice to say, the Marauder in Moony was no doubt laughing his ass off at the admittedly comical scene he must've put on: a monstrous beast seated upon a chair at a table, eating his breakfast like a dainty aristocratic woman of the eighteenth century. Granted, he had been nearly cursed by both Wizards if not for Harry reacting quickly, using his Sorcery to keep them immobilized in their seats until they calmed down enough to realize that Remus's human conscience was still in control.

Once they'd recovered, Dumbledore was visibly the most torn between the revolutionary actions Harry had taken. Simply put, the old man was so ingrained in his ways that, despite him always preaching for change and equality, he was hesitant and even quite fearful of just what the Werewolves would do with their newfound powers of control. They could now easily break away from the Wizarding World altogether, incite panic and wars, and even begin trying to spread their newfound 'gift' to far more people now. But just the same, the biggest contributing factor that had caused so many Werewolves to be driven into the depths of Darkness was the simple fact that the Ministry of Magic actively took measures in sabotaging any chance of them living semi-normal lives in either society. What the Werewolves now faced was perhaps the greatest gift that any man could be given: the power of choice. And the choices they now made would no doubt actively shape their destinies forever after…and all he or anyone else could do was _wait_.

After that revelation was made and he returned to his human form, Remus revealed that was how he'd found Harry and, after having cleansed most of the British Werewolves, how they'd decided to visit Godric's Hollow and Harry's parents' graves. Though they touched briefly on Harry's discovery of a magical artifact, they quickly pressed on to their visit of Dudley in Warwickshire and the following attack by a mysterious cloaked figure. This mysterious occurrence had all of Dumbledore, Sirius, and Remus assuming that the attacker was probably an agent of Voldemort's, perhaps a mercenary Sorcerer hunter sent to find and kill Harry. However, both Harry and Dudley were skeptical of that opinion. Dudley firmly believed that the man's accent was too foreign to have come from anywhere in Europe. And it was Harry's instinct that he was trusting. Something about the attacker (be it his accent or mannerisms) just didn't seem in line with Voldemort's style or the type of mercenary he'd hire. But in the end, they couldn't do anything about the man until he revealed himself once again.

After that, the conversation was finally brought back to the locket and Kreacher was made to tell his tale. Sirius quite clearly had the hardest time believing anything that Kreacher said as being anything remotely close to being truthful. But Harry could sense Kreacher's honesty and repeatedly assured his godfather that it was the truth. Nevertheless, that didn't stop Kreacher's tale from being quite fantastic and strange. Kreacher being loaned to Voldemort as he hid something in a cursed cave. Sirius's brother Regulus deciding that he wanted whatever it was that Voldemort had hidden, and yet sacrificing himself to allow Kreacher to escape. And the house-elf's lingering distraught over the emotional backlash that he had caused to his beloved family because of Regulus's final orders, as well as his inability to carry out the last and most important of orders by destroying the locket.

"Sirius?" Harry finally said once everything was said and done, Kreacher mournfully recovering on the floor from the many heartbreaking revelations he'd revealed. Once he gained his godfather's attention, Harry held up his lightsaber. "Let me destroy it."

"Go ahead," Sirius said, tossing the cursed jewelry across the table, where it came to a skidding halt in front of Harry.

"Harry, what _is_ that device?" Dumbledore asked upon the hilt of the device that he'd seen Harry wield in front of the whole school. It was a strange, deceptively powerful, and quite versatile weapon, Dumbledore would've been lying if he said that he wasn't the least be interested in it.

"Later, sir," Harry said, igniting the blue blade as he glared down at the locket.

Angling the weapon's tip, he jabbed it powerfully down on it. Impossibly, the locket wasn't destroyed or damaged immediately. Instead, a green aura seemed to burst to life around the locket, protecting it from the deadly blade just as it was about to make contact. Grunting as he applied much more strength to his stab, Harry heaved down against the green barrier. Green, blue, and white sparks began bursting to life between the immoveable object and the unstoppable force. After several long moments of no progress, Harry finally pulled back to examine the green barrier much more closely.

Reaching out with his hand and closing his eyes, Harry delved deeply into his connection with the ambient magics that saturated the house and surroundings. He watched closely as the magic of the Dark Spirit that was inside the locket swiftly retreated back inside the safety of its otherwise impenetrable casing. That was when he sensed the charms cast upon the locket's exterior. Okay, if the shell was strong, maybe the inside was weak. And since this was Voldemort's handiwork he was dealing with…

"_Open!_" Harry hissed in Parseltongue.

Almost anticlimactically, the locket popped open. Then a massive green cloud erupted from it, the force of it blowing all but Harry back into the walls. Harry was fortunate because he'd unknowingly held his lightsaber in a semi-protective posture across his chest, which in turn acted as a type of shield against the outrush of power that he'd unleashed. In that green and black cloud, Harry could see only vague bodies and faces taking shape, voices yelling in muted shouts of accusation and rage. From the others, Harry sensed rising levels of fear, depression, powerlessness, and hopelessness. Looking over at them, he saw they were all staring into the churning cloud with grief stricken expressions at whatever they were seeing or experiencing.

'_My lightsaber must be shielding me_,' he realized. Then, seeing and sensing that they were all starting to succumb to the illusions and accusations, he hefted up his saber again. With one simple stab, he was killed the Dark Spirit that had claimed the locket as a home. In the time it took him to sheathe his lightsaber, the mass of evil floating above the table had vanished for all eternity.

Looking at the others around the table, Harry found them in varying states of distress. He could already tell that this was going to be a long day, especially when Dumbledore turned _that gaze_ over upon him. Whatever the old man knew or suspected, Harry could already tell he wasn't going to like it.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Quite an eventful chapter, much more so than I originally thought it'd be. What do you guys think? Am I speeding the storyline along too quickly or do you enjoy the nonstop action and revelations that have been happening recently?

I wonder how many people can guess just what inspired a certain key scene in this particular chapter.


	9. Thieves, Messages, and Moody Aggression

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE! **There is something that takes place in this chapter will have many, _many, MANY_ of you pissed off beyond recognition. And while I don't want to say the reasons why here, for those of you who simple _MUST_ have an answer for why I'd something like this, skip ahead to Chapter 24 to find just WHY I'd do this. If you still don't like it, _**TOO BAD!**_

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#09: Thieves, Messages, and Moody Aggression_

**October 24, 1996  
Secret Lab, Hogwarts**

Hermione could say with utmost certainty and conviction that this year at Hogwarts was shaping up to be the absolute worst year of her life. It had been more than a week since the 'Battle of Hogwarts' had taken place and things had quickly deteriorated for everyone. With High Inquisitor Umbridge calling the shots after she'd evicted Headmaster Dumbledore, the worst of it had fallen on Gryffindor House, as the 'House of Traitors' as the Slytherins had so lovingly christened them. There had been over a dozen new amendments to the original Educational Decree, several being posted within a single day at times, as Umbridge started governing Hogwarts with an increasing totalitarian rule. And the list seemed to just keep getting longer as the Toad sought to control ever single aspect of Hogwarts life.

Whispers of discontent spread rapidly throughout the student body. Talk of rebellion against the Inquisitor's rule was practically everywhere, but Hermione suspected that no one would actually _do_ anything. No one, not even in Gryffindor, the House of the Brave, had the courage or the extremely high pain threshold to openly rebel against the most powerful witch in the school. All that anyone really did was do small, insignificant rule-breaking, like refusing to acknowledge Umbridge as the new Headmistress. All throughout Hogwarts, even by the Professors themselves, Umbridge was known only by her title of 'Inquisitor'. The Professors were especially angry with Umbridge when, two days after her inauguration as Headmistress, she prompted dismissed Hagrid and Trelawney from their jobs, not even caring that she didn't even have any backup teachers to take their places until new ones could be found. Although they hid it quite well, Hermione noticed that discontent was present in even the Slytherin House, who generally got off the lightest with the new rules.

But where things were _really_ focused was on her and Ron, as Harry's closest friends and confidants. The hammer struck hard and true on them with no mercy given. They had detentions with Umbridge herself or Mr. Filch for the rest of the year, forbidden for being awarded any points to their House (even if they are Outstanding results on every subject), had to surrender their wands to Umbridge until the school year ended and thus were completely forbidden from performing _any_ magic at all under any situation, could not travel the halls without an 'armed escort' in the form of the Inquisitorial Squad (a job Malfoy constantly rubbed in their faces as he personally volunteered for it, cursing and jinxing them at his heart's whim), forbidden from joining or participating in any teams, clubs, or games, and had little to no time to actually study and do homework. But the worst restriction of all, in Hermione's humble opinion, was being forbidden from even approaching the library to research! The only true time of day in which they had even a sliver of personal freedom was at night after curfew, when everyone should be sleeping.

"Tell me again," Ron said quietly, sleepily. "Why are we down here _now_ when we could be up in our beds sleeping and _trying_ to pretend the Toad isn't trying to ruin our lives?"

"Because we need to make sure that Harry didn't leave anything behind," Hermione stated calmly. "Anything that the Ministry, Voldemort, or the Inquisitor could use against him, like his lightsaber blueprints."

"Right," Ron said as he yawned widely again. "…Can't believe he just up and left without us like that. Some friend he is."

"You don't mean that," Hermione said as she was shuffling through some of the desk drawers. "You're just tired and cranky. Besides, how was Harry or any of us supposed to know what was going to happen after the Inquisitor found out he was a Sorcerer and went to Fudge?"

"That's something that I still don't get," Ron said, some life coming back to his sleepy eyes as he looked over at his bushy-haired friend. "How did the Inquisitor even find out about him being a Sorcerer in the first place? He hid his powers so well and only you, me, and Neville even knew that he was a Sorcerer."

"I've been thinking about that and I think I know how she did it," Hermione admitted, opening another desk drawer and gasping at what she saw. It was the vials of the Awakening Potion that Harry had brewed in order to become a Sorcerer. How could he have forgotten _these?!_

She was fast to grab them and put them up on the desk proper, counting them as she did, twelve vials in all with four others of them already emptied. From what Hermione knew of the potion, _four_ was generally all that the human body required in order for the effects to become permanent. So why did he brew so many of them? Maybe he… Maybe he had hoped to have her and Ron become Sorcerers with him? That made a good deal of sense to her since she knew that Harry was a very giving and sharing person with his friends.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, not seeming to care about the potion vials that Hermione had found. "How did she find out about Harry?" Looking up at Ron, Hermione's expression changed to one of remorse and pity and Ron immediately knew that he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Ron, do you remember the day before the 'battle' that you had to do a detention with the Inquisitor?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, vaguely," Ron admitted. "Stupid toad made me write lines with her Blood Quill for an hour because I was 'breathing too loud' in class. What kind of excuse is that?!"

"A bad one," Hermione agreed, nodding in acknowledge of Ron's opinion. "But here's the thing, Ron. When you came back up to the Tower, there wasn't a scratch on you."

"What?" Ron asked, blinking in confusion. "Then why do I remember—" Then realization struck him like a mallet. "That no good, _black-hearted, bloody_—She must've used a truth potion and then Obliviated me to cover her tracks!"

"That was my opinion, yes," Hermione agreed, her expression of remorseful understanding and pity only deepening as a look of pure rage and self-loathing crossed Ron's face. Ron quickly turned away from her, hiding his darkening expression as he started to sulk angrily.

With a sigh, Hermione once again started shuffling through the desks. Within another drawer near where the potions had been, she found perhaps the most dangerous material evidence against Harry: the blueprints of his lightsaber. This she could somewhat understand him leaving behind. Because the lightsaber was half magical and half technological in nature, nearly all Wizards and Witches in the Magical World would be unable to decipher or understand just what the blueprints were revealing. And, within the same drawer, she also found the focusing crystal recipe he had written down at her behest for when she had started brewing her own green crystal. As far as she and Harry knew, though beautiful and deeply personal to the individual who created them, the crystals were next to worthless without a lightsaber to install them in.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" drawled a cocky voice from the doorway. Ron and Hermione both spun around to find the only door blocked by Malfoy, with Crabbe and Goyle standing visible just over his shoulder outside. "Looks like two little lion cubs have wandered down into the adder den."

"What should we do with them?" Crabbe asked, an impish sneer on his pudgy face as he held his wand in hand, ready for fast use.

Ron growled in anger, his hands twitching with the obvious and powerful desire to draw his own wand and fight the three of them by himself. Though her face was remarkably calm and blank, Hermione was panicking wildly on the inside.

"You two can have fun with the weasel, I want to talk with the Mudblood," Draco said, stepping into the room fully and moving aside to allow his two large companions access inside.

As he did this, Ron threw caution to the wind, grabbing one of the nearby desks and hurling it towards the Slytherin trio. With a muttered phrase, Crabbe easily blew the desk apart, showering the redhead with debris and splinters, forcing him to cover himself protective. Then Goyle entered the fray, throwing casual curses and spells at Ron who frantically tried to dance and dodge out of the way, much to the obvious amusement of the two attackers.

"What do we have here?" Draco drawled out, ignoring the unfair fight that was happening a short distance away. His eyes were glued to the potion vials and the different papers that Hermione had gathered onto the desks. He didn't even bother trying to draw his wand to torment the girl because, thanks to the Inquisitor, she was defenseless and he was quite enjoying seeing her tremble in repressed anger and fear. He had been dreaming of seeing her like this since their first days here at Hogwarts. Grabbing one of the potion vials, he held it up and closely examined the white-opaque contents with a trained eye.

"Looks like some kind of medicinal potion," he said, mostly to him since Hermione could scarcely hear him over the racket as another pair of desks exploded. "From the consistency, I'd say it is for low-level skin treatment. Now why would you need something like this?"

Despite herself, Hermione had to admire Malfoy's experience and skill with potions. To be able to accurately surmise a potion's type and use just by seeing how thick it was, how it behaved with a slight swish, and from the faint scent it emitted, _that_ was the mark of a skilled potion brewer in the making. Something that very few others could attempt unless they were intimately familiar with the many ingredients and types of potions out there. However, she didn't bother trying to answer him since she knew he wouldn't care what she said.

But as he set the vial down and was reaching for the blueprints, Hermione's hands shot forward and swiped the parchment away from his grasp. Malfoy just jerked his gaze up at her, staring at her with a cold calculation in his eyes. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached for his belt and withdrew his wand. Shaking badly in fear at what she knew was to come and rage at his insolent arrogance, Hermione glared hatefully at the blonde bully. Quite against her will, she slowly slid the papers back within his reach. At the same time, Ron cried out as he was finally hit by a cutting curse, falling to the ground as he held his bleeding side. His two tormentors were on him instantly, ruthlessly firing curse after jinx after hex with obvious delight at Ron's cries of pain.

"Good," Malfoy stated, as though he were congratulating a distasteful mongrel for finally performing the doggy trick he'd been forced to try and teach to it. Then, a snap of his wand and soft phrase, Hermione's arms were suddenly locked to her side as though her arms were bound by chains. It was a variation of the Body-Binding Curse and Leg-Locker Jinx. Taking the nearest parchment, the Slytherin's eyes widened greatly when he recognized the device that was displayed on it. Glancing at the name of the device at the top, he sneered, "Light…saber? Bland, but accurate."

"Don't _bother_ trying to make one," Hermione spat out. "It's only _part_ magical. Unless you know anything about _technology_ and _electronics_, you'll never get it to work."

"…Probably," Draco admitted as he read with growing anger and bewilderment at the strange instructions and words on the blueprint, much to Hermione's surprise. She had been expecting an arrogant rebuttal from the blonde, declaring his superiority, and proudly proclaiming he could easily create a purely magical version of the weapon he now held. Then he turned a cocky smirk at her and an innate warning of impending doom shot through her. It was a sadly accurate warning. "But you probably _do_."

"What?" she asked in a slightly confused and scared voice. He was up to something and she knew she wasn't going to like it.

"I'm _not_ a simpleton, _Mudblood_," Draco said, glaring at her despise his cocky sneer. "I know how you three, the 'Golden Trio,' are. Whenever Potter has something incredible or important, he _always_ shares with you two everything. I know that _you_ just _have_ to know _everything_. I know that even if you'd never use it, you'd _still_ want one if only to _understand_ it."

Yup, that feeling of impending doom had been dead on. She had been growing increasingly pale as more and more of the blonde's remarks began to make sense. Hermione gave no thought to her next actions, it was all a burst of motion and action and reaction. She moved over to her schoolbag on the desk next to her, reaching in and grabbing what she knew was where. Draco reacted to her sudden movement by casting a Stunner at her, which he missed to her spinning out of the way. As she was finishing her spin, a green blade of plasma sprung to life in her hands, held awkwardly before her as though trying to keep Draco at a distance.

The blonde's sneer returned in full force as he saw the green blade but wisely didn't try to close the distance between them to grab it from her. He'd seen Potter use a similar weapon to cleave through a solid stone golem with little to no difficulty, there was no way he was going to try touching that thing. Instead, he cast a powerful disarming spell at her. Through a combination of awkward positioning, inexperience, and fear (of herself and Draco), Hermione was unable to react quickly enough. Though she did an admirable job of trying to catch the spell, it shot past her pathetic defense and hit her in the chest. As the spell sent her sliding backwards, nearly making her lose her balance and fall, the lightsaber was ripped forcefully from her hand. The blade deactivated as she lost her grip on the hilt, causing the pressure plates inside them to release and thus disengage the weapon, a creative safety feature she'd created on a whim.

The hilt itself careened gracefully into Draco's waiting hand.

When Harry had first given her the blueprints, she had quickly shot to the Owlery to send a request to her parents. After four days of impatient waiting, the owl had returned carrying a large box of everything she'd need to build her own with spares in case she accidentally broke something, every Muggle thing at least. Following her creation of her gem, Hermione had begun building the hilt, making triply sure that she wasn't even a millimeter out of alignment on everything. Once the internal mechanisms were done to satisfaction, Hermione had crafted the exterior. The hilt was a combination of magical rune-reinforced, highly polished gold and silver chrome, with some rubber handgrips along the bottom half. A small indention on the upper third of the handle was where the activation button and controls were located, carefully spaced and accident-proof in case of an unintentional activation. The overall effect was a stunningly beautiful hilt that reflected the perceived beauty of her focusing gem.

Taking the lightsaber, Draco held the weapon up as he carefully examined it. He held it with a care that would've been comparable to someone handling a live bomb, set to go off with the slightest twitch. He easily guessed which end the blade came from and held that side safely away from himself. Holding the lightsaber into his hand, he stared at the indention and the three buttons it held. With an almost hesitant touch, he pressed the center and largest button, a green blade springing to life a split-second later with a loud _snap-hiss_. The repeated noise finally drew Crabbe and Goyle's attentions, finally giving the near-comatose Ron a chance to breathe and recover as they stared in awed but cautious gazes at the strange blade their friend held.

Despite the beauty, Draco scowled at the green blade. For reasons he couldn't truly explain or understand, he found the active weapon to be deeply unsettling and almost repulsive to look at now that he was finally holding it. Forcing his unease and disgust aside, he pressed the small right button and the blade changed, shrinking to half its original meter and a half-long length. Pressing the button again, the blade returned to its original length. Switching over to the small left button, the blade lengthened to nearly twice its original size. After returning it to normal, he hit the center button again and switched the blade off. When he did this, that strange feeling of repulsion vanished.

"Curious," Draco said, examining the hilt once again.

Looking closely at that hilt, he noticed a faint separation at the gold band in the center of the hilt. Carefully grasping it, he twisted the hilt halves counterclockwise of one another. The two halves easily unscrewed themselves and he slid them apart. What he found in the center was a glowing green gem that was reminiscent of the blade he'd ignited. Plucking the gem from its housing, that sensation of repulsion returned, but in greater strength. Glaring down at the seemingly-innocent jewel as though it's deeply insulted his very being, he finally understood.

"This…_thing_ is like a representation of _you_," he spat at Hermione, who was glaring at him with equal fire in her eyes for his clear disgust of her most treasured possession.

Tossing the crystal onto a nearby desk, Draco spun his wand towards and shot the most powerful destructive charm he could muster at the thing, ignoring Hermione's cry to stop. Miraculously, while the desktop exploded, the gem remained, flying in the air briefly before falling amidst the debris, unharmed without even a scratch or a chirp missing. Despite herself, Hermione let out a low sigh of relief that it survived. Perhaps the crystals were immune to such magic? Perhaps it was due to her own strength in magic when compared to Draco? Perhaps the gems could only be destroyed when their creators were killed? In the end, she decided it didn't matter. Her treasure had survived.

Snorting in annoyance, Draco stuffed the two halves of her lightsaber into his pocket while he turned back to the parchments. The next one he grabbed was the recipe of the focusing crystal. '_NO!_' Hermione silently cried out in her head as the blonde thief began reading with a growing smirk.

Unnoticed by either of them, Crabbe had walked over to the desk with the potion vials. There was a strange glazed look in his eyes as he picked up one of the vials and stared at the potion within. He didn't know why, but he could feel…something coming from this potion. Beckoning him. For most of his life, and especially since coming to Hogwarts, Crabbe had yearned for power. To be among the rare and distinguished few Wizards who had risen above the mundane of society, like Merlin and Salazar Slytherin. To become one of the mightiest and most all-powerful of all for all time. That was his deepest and most fervent wish. Yet he was continually bypassed, mocked, and looked down upon by everyone, even in his own House and by his own friends. But now, somehow, he suddenly felt…like he'd finally found the secret to his desire of ultimate power.

Without a conscious decision, the vial was brought to his lips and he drank the potion down in one gulp.

* * *

**Grimmauld Place, London  
Same time**

It was with a startled gasp of surprise that Harry was wrenched forcefully from his sleep. Grabbing his pounding head as he sat up, Harry tried to force the headache to stop. But for once, his Sorcery could do little more than ease the pain.

"What's going on?" he gasped out quietly.

In the ambient magic around him, he could feel great waves and almost physically painful convulsions tearing through it. It was like he was a dingy on the ocean and whatever was happening was a hurricane. But he was also able to get a very strong sense of _where_ it was coming from, up north in Scotland. After what felt like an eternity, the hurricane began to die down. But in its place, Harry could faintly feel a new presence, a weak beacon of Sorcery was shining forth. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Harry silently contemplated what this bizarre event could mean.

That was when another and even stronger wave slammed into him like a freight train. The force of it was so immense that it actually caused Harry to recoil and collapse in an undignified heap on the floor, gasping frantically for breath. The magical convulsions were stronger than before, but thankfully he quickly managed to adjust, learning to 'ride the wave' as it were. But as the wave settled back down again, Harry could now sense _two_ new beacons to join the first. He may not have much experience with divining the strengths and differences between auras in comparison to himself, but even he could sense that one of those three was exceptionally stronger than the other two.

'_**Three**__ new Sorcerers? At once?_' he wondered. '_What's going on in Scotland?_'

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he crossed his hands and rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned into his hands. Concentrating on the ambient magic of the world, he sought out the new auras up north. Wanting to find these new people, identify them, learn how and why they've become Sorcerers, and a whole slew of other questions. But his vision was clouded, not only by the dark magic of Grimmauld Place itself, but also by his own great frustrations and fear. After several long minutes, he gave up the effort as futile.

Still, in an effort to try and calm himself so he could return to sleep, Harry didn't separate himself from the magic. Instead, he just let the magic fill up him, carry him away. After a few moments of this, something strange happened. The oppressive darkness of Grimmauld Place seemed to fall away and he found himself basking in the turbulent natural flows of magic. It was an incredible feeling that left him feeling breathless but also at peace. Unnoticed by Harry, the ancient relic that he'd found in Godric's Hollow began to tremble as the inner light started to glow a bit brighter. The longer and deeper Harry delved into the magic, the brighter the glow became. Then, finally, the gold casing surrounding the crystal ball split apart as the entire thing began to float into the air. The pulsing of the inner light was now a steady light, no brighter than a simple candle. The crystal ball seemed to fade away as a ghostly figure took shape in its place.

"_This is __Myrddin Wyllt_," a foreign voice spoke up, causing Harry's eyes to flicker open. Still deeply immersed in the ambient magic, his otherwise typical reaction of recoiling and gasping in surprise was…a _bit_ subdued and delayed. "_And if you're listening this message, then you've passed the first test_." The figure wore long, sweeping robes of an unspecified color due to the blue hues that the man was portrayed in. He had a long beard that reached his waist and held a long staff with a large gem embedded in its end. The voice itself was speaking in a strange language that Harry normally couldn't have understood, in fact he only recognized vague words that sounded like ancient Welsh. But the voice wasn't just speaking to his ears, but his mind. "_I congratulate you, seeker of knowledge. The only ones capable of scrying my crystal ball are those who have a pure heart and a calm mind, that which darkness holds no sway over. In recognition of this, I offer up all the knowledge and secrets I have gathered and learned of this most wondrous power that we share. Use my knowledge of Sorcery to the betterment of all peoples, that is all I ask of you, seeker. And may the gods smile upon your endeavors and fate from henceforth._"

His concentration well and truly shattered now, Harry just gawked at the ghostly as it suddenly vanished. The gold casing of the crystal ball snapped back into their previous placing as the glow of the ball disappeared and the relic fell limply to the bedside table it'd been floating over, rolling and falling to the ground.

Needless to say, Harry wouldn't be getting much sleep this night.

* * *

**October 31, 1996  
Grimmauld Place, London**

Yawning, Dudley stretched his arms out over his head. He was still mostly asleep as he made his way out of 'his' room, down the hall, and towards the kitchen for breakfast. He had only been in this magic house for a few days and he dearly wished he could leave it behind. The house was filthy, unwelcoming, and menacing in a manner that shook him to his bones. It was truly a wonder that he could even manage to fall asleep at night while inside the confines of this house.

Granted, the people inside the house were much more accommodating and interesting, enough to distract him at least. One of the early bright spots of his time here was when Sirius Black and Harry had taken him up to meet Buckbeak, a magical creature called a hippogriff. Buckbeak was a very beautiful and equally proud creature that, at first glance, Dudley had strongly assumed was actually a large Griffin or something similar. After going through the nearly ceremonial greetings with the animal, Dudley had even been allowed to touch and pet him. Buckbeak positively preened under the awed attentions and delicate handlings of Dudley's fingers and hands, something that surprised both Harry and Sirius considering Dudley was a Muggle.

Yawning again, Dudley reached the bottom step of the hallway staircase and turned for the kitchen. The house had taken on a noticeably brighter shade of darkness over the past two days of their stay there. Sirius claimed it was because their months-long cleaning spells and enchantments were finally taking affect. Harry credited the change to the ugly, emotional, and quite-disrespectful creature called a 'house-elf' Kreacher. Kreacher had finally fulfilled his dead master's wish in getting the locket destroyed. This, according to Harry, had put the house-elf into a much brighter state of mind than he had been in, for years probably, and the house-elf was not actually taking a clear interest in cleaning up the house again. But the barmy old man Dumbledore just smiled with those weird twinkling eyes as he said something along the lines of 'long held secrets finally being illuminated have now brightened this house once again' or something, Dudley wasn't sure he believed or even understood the man's point-of-view.

Reaching the kitchen door, Dudley pushed it open and made to enter but was suddenly stopped by a loud unfamiliar voice, "_WHO ARE YOU?!_" Dudley stopped moving as his eyes immediately flew towards where the voice had yelled from, seeing a gnarly and scary-looking man with a strange prosthetic eye he'd never met before. He had a furious look on his face and was pointing a wand at the young Dursley. "_Answer me now!_"

"Bugger," Dudley muttered, seeing the telltale buildup of magic light up the man's wandtip. Ducking down lowly on reflex, Dudley glimpsed the red light of a Stunner fly over his head where his chest had once been. Needing no further prompting, he spun and launched himself back towards the hallway. Seeing the flash and moving shadows on the walls, he quickly threw himself to the side, dodging another spell he didn't recognize. The spell crashed into the wall at the far end of the hall, causing the covered portrait of ugly woman to start shrieking once again from behind the drapes.

Dudley ignored the shrieks of the bat-shit crazy lady as he rounded the hall and jumped the staircase, taking them three at a time. A loud cracking noise behind him was quickly followed by the man's voice, "GET BACK HERE, YOU DEATH EATER!" and another spell sent his way. Yet again, Dudley dodged it by grabbing the wall and staircase handrail, jumping up and hoisting his legs high up into the air. Due to the drastic differences in angles, the mad-eyed man's spell shot through the space where his legs had once been, discharging harmlessly on a step higher up in a shower of magic particles.

"Slippery little one, aren't you?" the man said in a voice that _almost_ sounded complimentary as Dudley resumed his climb. "But enough is enough!"

Just as he was nearing the top of the stairs, Dudley was only briefly able to glimpse one of the doors opening. Then his line of sight was abruptly blocked as the man teleported directly in front of him with a loud crack of displaced air. As Dudley recoiled in surprise, the man raised his wand in preparation for casting yet another spell. And unlike previously, both of them knew he wouldn't miss this time.

Just as his arm was descending to unleash the spell, a hand suddenly shot forward and caught the man's elbow, disrupting not only his magic but his concentration. Impossibly, the man's prosthetic eye shot to the side at an angle no normal eye could move, zeroing in on who had managed to sneak up on him.

"That's enough," Harry said as he stepped to the side to reveal himself to Dudley and the man. "He's not a Death Eater, Professor Moody. This is my cousin, Dudley."

"It's about time you showed up, Harry," Dudley couldn't help griping, his adrenaline still running quite high. "I thought I was goner for sure!"

Any relief Dudley might've felt was quickly forgotten as the newly-named 'Moody' turned sharply towards his cousin as he angrily jabbed his wand at him and barked out, "Potter! What're you doing here?! Dark Wizards aren't welcome here!"

Despite the man's very aggressive stance and voice, Harry didn't seem affected. His face was firm as he gazed at the angry Wizard. "Technically, I'm not just a Wizard anymore. And I'm not even Dark. Why don't you calm down? Dumbledore knows I'm here, and has known for days."

The man's responding growl echoed through the hall like that of a rabid dog in Dudley's ears. But after only a moment, he turned and teleported away, leaving with a loud crack of air yet again. Finally breathing a sigh of relief, Dudley brought his hand to his chest, feeling his racing heart. "Finally, he's gone. I thought he was some kind of lunatic Dark Wizard there for a moment."

"He's been called a lot worse, or so I've heard," Harry admitted with a slight smile. Turning, he leaned over the railing to glance towards the kitchen doorway. "It seems he isn't the only new visitor here. I sense Dumbledore, Moody, Sirius, Remus, and three other people down there. Moody's probably yelling at Dumbledore about 'security risks' being let in to the Order's headquarters by now."

"Should I stay in my room until they've left?" Dudley asked, feeling quite unwelcome and uncertain after Moody's attack.

"Probably would be a good idea," Harry admitted, glancing at his cousin with a saddened expression. Then he gave him a small smile as he said, "Don't worry, I'll bring up something good to eat as soon as I can."

"Thanks," Dudley nodded in relief. Walking past Harry, he headed for the restroom, having a sudden and very strong need to use the loo after that little escapade.

Harry paid Dudley just a passing glance before making his way down to the kitchen. He could already tell he was not going to enjoy the coming conversation. This would be the first time since his arrival at Grimmauld Place that the Order of the Phoenix had met. And if Moody's reaction to his presence was any indication, it would be an awkward and rough conversation.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Sorry about the late posting and the short chapter. My muse just dropped off severely in recent weeks. Let's hope it gets back up again. I figured it'd be better to post a short chapter than to prolong the wait as I hoped my muse would return. But the good news is I have a clear plot line to travel down, so no worries about new ideas twisting me up like in previous stories.

Speaking of twisting plots, maybe you guys could help me with something? I've been getting this question a _**LOT** _recently and I've finally decided to address it. What should happen with the Sorcery journal that Umbridge took from Harry during her interrogation? I ask because (obviously) I hadn't made any plans for it beyond using it to give him Sorcery and Umbridge using it to condemn him. Anyone got any **rational** ideas that I/the Ministry of Magic could use the journal for?

On another note, before any of you start asking, no, Draco's reaction to Hermione's crystal (and saber) is _**not**_ indicative of how all other Witches and Wizards would react to holding another's. Draco's reaction is simply a physical/mental representation of their own dislikes of one another. Draco despises everything about Hermione, from her heritage to her intellect to her physical appearance, and thus this enormous hatred and disgust carries over to her crystal. If Hermione had held Draco's crystal or saber, she'd have had much the same reaction. Suffice to say, your technique and skills would be drastically affected if you were forced to use a weapon that you had such an irrational disgust/hatred of. And that is also indicative of any other future (?) lightsaber wielders.

In case anyone wants a visual comparison of Hermione (now Draco's) lightsaber hilt, look at Mace Windu's saber. That was the concept I based this one off of.

And kudos to anyone who can guess who 'Myrddin Wyllt' really is. ;p


	10. A Darkening Horizon

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#10: A Darkening Horizon_

**October 31, 1995**

"How could you let that creature remain here?!"

Nymphadora Tonks had _never_ seen Mad-Eye Moody in such a rage before. When she arrived via Floo, she quite literally dropped into a savage Wizard's Duel between her mentor and Dumbledore. The only thing missing was the high-intensity clashes, flashes, and explosions as magic was thrown about. But as it were, she found herself momentarily confused and uncertain as she watched the two elderly Wizards go at it… Okay, maybe that was a _bit_ of an exaggeration on Dumbledore's part, but it definitely encompassed Moody quite well.

"Because, despite everything, he's still the same kind boy I've watched over for so many years, Alastor," Dumbledore was saying, calm and passive.

"That just means your judgment is skewed by sentiment for the boy he _once was!_" Moody snapped back, glaring angrily at the former Hogwarts Headmaster. "Need I remind you want he's _already _done?! Or what the _countless others_ who've gone before him?! Of the _disasters, wars,_ and _deaths_ they all caused before getting _brought down!_"

"It seems my judgment isn't the only one in question, Alastor," Dumbledore said, quite sternly as his eyes lost what little was left of their usual twinkle. "If he was truly what you claimed, he wouldn't have come to us. He wouldn't continue abiding the Statute of Secrecy. And he most assuredly wouldn't have spared the life the Witch who'd been making his own life miserable."

"No, he only made her an _invalid_," Moody countered. Then he quietly muttered, most likely to himself, "Though she _does_ deserve _far_ worse than that."

As the two entered into a silent contest of wills, staring sternly at one another as they waited for the other break down, Tonks sidled up next to Remus. Lightly grasping his arm, her heart fluttering ever-so-slightly at her boldness and seeing him turn his attention to her. Having gained his attention, she released his arm, leaned over, and quietly asked, "Which Death Eater are they arguing over this time?"

To her surprise and slight confusion, Remus just snorted in annoyed amusement. "Not a Death Eater this time. It's Harry."

Despite herself, Tonks found her interest in the subject heightened considerably. She had not been present at the time, enjoying one of her few days off, when the fiasco at Hogwarts had taken place. She didn't know entirely what had happened there. This was due to Fudge having _strictly_ forbidden any of the gathered Aurors from speaking about what had taken place there that day. Of course, much like at Hogwarts, the rumor mill inside the Ministry was very quick to jump to conclusions. Tonks had heard no less that _nine_ different versions of 'what had actually happened', but there were five pieces of information that each of those rumors had in common. That Harry had discovered or learned a forbidden branch of magic, he used what he'd learned to defeat over two dozen fully trained and experienced Aurors, cut off Umbridge's right hand with some kind of strange new weapon which also had some kind of strange side effect in that her hand couldn't be replaced, that he'd fled Hogwarts shortly afterwards, and now was preparing to start his own crusade of darkness to destroy the Ministry of Magic.

Tonks rather liked Harry. He was a quiet but compassionate boy, maybe a bit too serious for his age, but he truly desired to help protect people from Voldemort and his marshaling army. Thus, she had a _very_ hard time believing that he had set out on a quest to become the next Dark Lord. In fact, she didn't believe it at all. But that didn't mean that Harry hadn't found some forbidden magic and learned it, probably while all the while not knowing it was forbidden due to his ignorance of Wizarding law, culture, and history.

"What happened? What did he do that's set Moody off?" Tonks asked, glancing back at the two Wizards as they had restarted their argument during her momentary distraction.

"Several things actually," Remus admittedly, smiling slightly as he closed his eyes and dropped his chin slightly in a nod. This response and action immediately drew her attention. She couldn't help but stare at his small smile with interest and delight, and no small amount of confusion. But one thing was for certain: that was the most genuine smile of happiness or pride that she'd ever seen on his face. To her eyes, it made him seem decades younger for just a few moments.

Quickly catching herself before he caught her staring, Tonks hummed in question. "Like what?"

"Well…" Remus trailed off, considering his choices. "The one that's clearly got Alastor angry is—"

The kitchen door opened and in walked a dark haired boy with vibrant green eyes that seemed to glow with a grand innate power. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Tonks could practically feel his presence wash over her like a soft, warm, and comforting breeze. It took her several long seconds to recognize him, the aura he was exuding was so drastically different—no, _stronger_—than it had been several months earlier. There was something about it that just drew her and everyone else's attentions to him for a split second.

"—he's here," Remus finished, unnecessarily.

Tonks kept her gaze focused on Harry as he entered the kitchen, not seeming concerned that he was interrupting several conversations and arguments. He was approaching her and Remus as he headed towards the pantry to get himself some food. But he paused in his journey as he drew up alongside Kingsley. Looking up at the powerfully-built black man, Harry gave him an awkward chuckle as he said, "Sorry about…earlier. But I figured it would've been better to pretend I didn't know you."

Kingsley nodded seriously, his gaze as calm and penetrating as Tonks had ever seen it. "I thought as much… But I was serious when I asked you to stop. That power—"

"—_isn't_ going to corrupt me," Harry interrupted softly, a reassuring grin on his face. "I've got a grasp of it now. I know how to keep from sinking into darkness."

"And what's that?" Kingsley asked, quite curious and unknowingly voicing Tonks's own question.

"Anger, fear, aggression, the dark side are they," Harry said, smiling slightly. Despite herself, Tonks couldn't help but quirk her eyebrow at how he was speaking. It almost sounded like he was quoting a demented House-elf. "Quick to join in a fight, easily they flow. Beware of them."

"That's your secret?!" Moody demanded gruffly, speaking loudly enough that his voice easily carried and showed that he had been shamelessly listening in on Harry's conversation. Like herself, but who was counting? "You think just thinking of honey, roses, and Snitches will keep you safe in the midst of a _bloodbath_ you've caused?!"

"No," Harry said, turning and glancing over towards Moody. "I think it'll keep me safe by _always_ thinking happy and calm thoughts, not _just_ in the middle of a fight." Before Moody could voice a response, Harry turned away and looked directly towards the fireplace. Curious to what drew his attention, Tonks glanced at the fireplace just in time to see the fire suddenly turn green and flare up, depositing a figure on the floor via the Floo. As Tonks and everyone was just starting to recognize the crouched figure as he began climbing back to his feet, Harry's happy, welcoming voice quickly called out, "Hello, Mr. Weasley."

"Harry?!" Arthur said, his head snapping to the side as he sought out the familiar voice. Upon spotting the boy, a relieved smile lit up the redhead's face as he quickly moved forward and swept the boy up in a brief hug. "It's good to see you! You've had Molly in a right state since you left Hogwarts. What've you been doing? Where were you?!"

"That is what I've called everyone here to discuss," Dumbledore said, speaking up from where he and Moody were standing. "Please be patient for a few more minutes, everyone. There are still a few more people who are a bit late in arriving."

As Harry got absorbed into a small conversation with Arthur, Tonks noticed a slight movement from the corner of her eye and looked over. Sirius had sidled up to Remus's other side and was quietly speaking into the man's ear. Normally, she wouldn't have paid that much mind. But it was the grin and almost knowing twinkle in his gaze that set her on edge as he glanced meaningfully at her. Remus also glanced at her for a moment before he looked back at Sirius and gave a mute nod of agreement, which only caused Sirius's grin to widen.

"What?" she demanded in a low tone of voice. She didn't like the way they were looking at her. It made her feel uncomfortable for some reason.

"Oh, we were just talking about how—" Sirius began before Remus's hand suddenly flew up and covered his mouth to shut him up.

"Nothing," Remus interrupted, a stern look on his face as he glared at his best friend. Seeing Sirius throw up his hands in mock-surrender, he lowered his hand as he looked back at her and mustered up a slight and obviously forced smile. "Nothing important, don't worry. Sirius was just making an inappropriate observation as usual."

"Hey!" Sirius whined, almost childishly.

"Oh, is that all?" she asked, feeling somewhat better. Sirius making immature and oftentimes vulgar statements and observations was sadly a common occurrence. Nothing to get angry over since there was nothing to be done about it.

Several minutes and numerous arrivals later, nearly the entire Order of the Phoenix had been gathered. They took their seats around the kitchen table with Dumbledore seated at one end and Harry forced to sit at the other. Aside from Moody, Tonks could see that most of the Order Wizards seemed to be both confused at Harry's presence and even a bit on edge because of it. She herself was more confused than alarmed, but that didn't stop the mounting tension in the room from starting to affect her. In previous meetings of equal or greater amounts of tension, she'd often find herself seeking reassurance from Dumbledore's unflappable calm or Remus's stern no-nonsense mentality. But this time, her eyes kept gravitating to the youngest present and those strange _almost_-glowing green eyes he now seemed to possess. It was like he was both the calm eye of the storm and a wild bucking bronco just waiting to be released. Though strange, the bizarre combination helped settle and interest her all the more.

"Now then," Dumbledore said once everyone had arrived and taken their seats. "We all know why we're here, so let's skip the formalities. Harry, if you'd be so kind, could you please fill us all in on what you've been up to recently? How this all started and why?"

"And _one good reason_ why we _shouldn't_ bring you straight to the ICW _right now!_" Moody growled lowly as he continued to glare at the young Wizard.

Harry merely nodded as he stood up. Reaching to his belt, he unclipped something there that Tonks hadn't noticed before. It looked like some kind of sword hilt, though she could faintly glimpse a glowing blue gem inside between the leather handgrips. As he held the object up, a small teasing grin crossed his face as he let go of it and, impossibly, levitated the hilt so that it was slowly spinning and turning just above his palm. This display of wandless magic drew startled and awed gasps from nearly all of the gathered Witches and Wizards. Only the most powerful, experienced, and skilled Wizards could hope to use wandless magic, and even then it was well known that it required a great deal of concentration to pull off even the most basic of spells. Thus, Harry had every right to look somewhat proud of himself as he began his story of building that strange device and how he'd used it to save his and his cousin's souls from the Dementor attacks. The Order had been quite excited to hear that the weapon could somehow _kill_ Dementors.

However, things took a sharp turn for the worse when he reached the part of finding the journal of Sir Henry Morgan. Though he made it quite clear that he hadn't known Morgan's history as a vicious Dark Wizard of immense strength, his revelation of Morgan being a secret Sorcerer had left the Order reeling. It was no secret that following his 'death' and burial in 1688 (which Muggles were still fruitlessly searching for), he had begun a career of increasingly Dark machinations. Though he had never demonstrated any overt powers, it had become widely accepted that he'd learnt some kind of rituals or new magic during his time in the Caribbean. And this was what had contributed to his infamy in the Wizarding World. When the newly-organized ICW of the time had grown tired of him and his attempts to seize total power, he had become involved in a battle the likes of which not even Dumbledore or Voldemort had ever been credited with, battling against a vast army of _50,000_ Aurors gathered from across Europe and nearly defeating them all before succumbing to sheer exhaustion.

So, when they realized that Harry had taken Morgan's journal and was studying his magic, the Order was quite justifiably alarmed. And that alarm quickly morphed in anger and fear when Harry decided to stop dancing around the issue and outright stated that he'd learned Sorcery. Though most of the Order had started speaking out, Tonks couldn't quite make out what any of them were saying thanks to the din. She simply sat back and watched everything take place as she tried to understand her own feelings. What she found was that she wasn't all that concerned. Though Sorcery was known to be a mighty and Dark Art, she could clearly see no such corruption in Harry. She also realized that she could now easily guess what had actually happened at Hogwarts and why. Fudge, probably from Umbridge, had learned and about Harry's Sorcery and had jumped at the chance to arrest him. But Harry had obviously fought back and escaped.

A loud blast of noise from Dumbledore quickly brought the Order back to silence and Harry was allowed to resume his story. If Harry's revelation of Sorcery had been alarming, his next act of helping the Werewolves by 'cleansing' them of the darkness of their Curse had been outright terrifying in its implications. And the proof of Harry's deed was demonstrated by Remus as he shifted into his Werewolf form with no apparent pain or a full moon in sight. The sight of Remus doing this suddenly caused Tonks to understand _exactly_ why he always seemed to be in such a good mood lately. With the threat of his Curse looming over his head for all his life, the ability to suddenly be able to freely control it had must've sent the man into a permanent euphoria-high. And it was all thanks to Harry, whose sole mission in life seemed to be to break the rules and norms of society just to explore the otherwise unconsidered options that lie behind them.

"So _that's_ what's caused the sudden change," Shacklebolt said after the resulting chaos had to be forcefully silenced by Dumbledore again. Noticing that he'd gained the Order's attention, he quickly clarified, "It has been noticed by several officials of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that the Werewolves have been in a rather festive mood for several weeks and have been pushing the boundaries of their restrictions quite freely. I think that the DMLE will probably soon be sent to reel them in if they keep pushing."

"I'll leave immediately," Remus said, a narrowed gaze of anger coming to his face now that he was again in his human form. "Try to tell them to start restraining themselves somewhat."

Moody snorted disconcertedly from where he sat. "The last thing the Ministry needs is to going beast hunting when they should be out hunting Dark Wizards." The glare leveled on Harry spoke volumes of who exactly the Ministry should be searching for. Though, to his credit, Harry met his heated gaze with a solemn expression.

"Maybe if the Ministry would employ the Werewolves, let them get jobs and earn a living like any normal person wants, they wouldn't be as willing to jump to the first Dark Lord's call that promises them better treatment?" Harry said quietly, though his voice was still heard by many at the table.

"Maybe if the Werewolves weren't contagious bloodthirsty beasts, they might consider the possibility," Emmeline Vance said, Tonks quickly noticed that she was refusing to look Harry in the eye.

"They're not," Harry said. "Not anymore."

"Is there anything else you'd like to share with the Order, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, speaking over Emmeline's response and quickly silencing her. "Or is there anything that anyone wishes to ask Harry before he leaves this meeting?"

"That weapon," Moody said immediately. "How did you make it? And did you leave any designs behind that others could find and use?"

Before he answered, Harry paused and considered something. Whatever he seemed to realize caused his expression to change to surprise and slight anger. Quickly shaking his head, he answered, "I made it by combining basic Muggle technologies and magic runes, potions, and charms together. I doubt your average Wizard will be able to ever recreate it on their own, not unless they're willing to get help from a Muggle who knows electronics."

"And the rest of it, Potter?" Moody pressed relentlessly. "Where are the designs? I know you've made some, just by your reactions."

Harry nodded slightly, looking rather unhappy with himself. "I did. I—I think I might've left them at Hogwarts, with a few other things I probably shouldn't have." Seeing Moody quickly getting ready to burst in anger, he quickly added, "I was in hurry to get away after Umbridge interrogated me, and had a lot of other stuff on my mind!"

"_That's no excuse, boy!_" Moody snapped heatedly. "_If those designs fall into the hands of a Death Eater_—"

"Nothing will come of it," Harry interrupted. "Like I said, _technology_ plays a large role in the design and function. And I _strongly_ doubt that the Death Eaters will ever _ask_ or _want_ help from a _Muggle!_ In fact, I'll bet that as soon as Voldemort finds out about the technology, he'll say something about the weapon being an _abomination_ to all magic or something!"

"That is actually quite a realistic possibility, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore agreed, his eyes twinkling slightly in relief.

"Wait a moment," Moody gruffly said, his gaze narrowing. "You said there were 'other things' you left behind. Like _what?_"

Now Harry definitely had an uncomfortable expression and posture about him, looking every bit his age as though he was preparing himself for getting reprimanded. After only a moment, he marshaled his courage and finally spoke out. "To become a Sorcerer, one needs to drink a special potion that…enacts certain changes in the body. I might've also left behind a couple of vials of this potion as well." There was a moment of silence in the kitchen as the various members of the Order took in the ramifications of what Harry had just admitted. But that wasn't even the worst of it. "And about a week ago, I…_sensed_ the awakening of three more Sorcerers up in Hogwarts."

The Order quickly exploded into loud cries of distress and conversations with one another. If the Ministry had such a difficult time dealing with one relatively inexperienced Sorcerer, how were they going to handle _four?!_ That was the general theme of the questions and conversations taking place.

"_WHY_ DIDN'T YOU TELL ANYONE ELSE ABOUT THIS _SOONER?!_" Moody roared, looking like he was hair's breath away from cursing the Potter boy.

"Because I've been trying to scry out who these new Sorcerers are," Harry said, once again regaining his composure. "But the wards around Hogwarts have been blocking my sight or _something_. And I didn't know _who_ to tell since Professor Dumbledore hasn't been here for several days and Hedwig couldn't find him. And if I'd told the Ministry, they'd either not believe me or do something _stupid_ again." Despite themselves, most of the Order were nodding their heads in agreement with the Ministry's stupidity.

"Well then," Tonks said, finally speaking up. "I guess there's only one thing to do now: go to Hogwarts, find these Sorcerers, and get back everything you left behind."

"A topic we shall discuss shortly," Dumbledore interrupted before anyone could speak for or against her recommendation. "For now, I have one question for you, Harry. Could you still be able to make another of those…weapons without those designs?"

"Definitely," Harry said quickly and confidently. "But why?"

"Strategy, my boy," Dumbledore said, smiling slightly. "They are clearly a versatile and powerful weapon that no one knows how to fight against. And, should our predictions come true, Voldemort will deny his Death Eaters the chance to build their own, even if they did swallow their pride. Should the Order have access and suitable training with these weapons, we'd have a strong ace to use against them when the time comes."

"With all due respect, Professor," Harry said. "I don't think that most Wizards will be able to adapt to them very quickly or easily. They are accustomed to mid- to long-range combat, where these are short-range weapons. You'd have to learn an entirely new style of fighting from scratch. And frankly, without my Sorcery, I'm still little more than a novice with it as well."

"All in due time, Harry," Dumbledore said, nodding and waving his hand slightly in dismissal. "I wasn't expecting you or anyone else to become masters of the blade overnight." Despite his clear reluctance, Harry just nodded at the elderly Wizard's point. Turning his attention to the gathered Order, he asked, "Are there any volunteers for who'd like to try making and training with their own of Harry's weapons?"

"I will!" Tonks chirped eagerly, raising her hand almost childishly with a slight grin.

"I would like to watch and study the process, if that's alright?" Arthur said, looking eagerly over towards Harry, who just nodded with a slight smile.

"Very well then," Dumbledore said when no one else offered. "I believe that concludes the first part of this meeting. Harry, I do believe your cousin is still awaiting his breakfast. Would you be so kind to bring it to him?"

With just a quick glance around the table and clearly sensing the turbulent emotions and mounting tension from the Order members, Harry just nodded. He quietly grabbed a pre-made meal from the pantry and left the kitchen. As he did, Tonks once again felt that strange sensation of a warm, comforting breeze. But this time, she felt it as if it had been swept aside by a cold wave of tension and fear. It sent chills up her spine and caused goose bumps to erupt across her flesh momentarily. Despite herself, she found herself almost longing for the return of that comforting warmth. Was this perhaps a side effect of Harry now being a Sorcerer?

Even as the Order's meeting began anew, shifting to other topics like the ones that Harry had illuminated, Tonks's mind was still only half present as she dwelt on the strange changes and occurrences that had happened to and around the Potter boy.

-o-

**Malfoy Manor  
Later that night…**

Voldemort sat in the library of the vaulted Malfoy Manor, enjoying the starry night sky that he could glimpse through the trees and clouds above. It was a quiet but cold night, one that proved that summer had truly ended and winter was well on its way. Voldemort had always enjoyed winter. It was the time of year in which everything seemed to die and only the truly strong could survive its harsh climate. With the magical fire crackling in the hearth, giving the room a soft, warm glow, it further illustrated the deepening darkness as night set in.

The Dark Lord was quietly contemplating what his next move would be. He still had several things he wanted to do, but he wasn't sure which held the greater importance, especially now. The first thing he needed to do was to get back the majority of his truly loyal underlings to accelerate the power and size of his army. That meant breaking into Azkaban, a simple feat for one of his immense power and cunning. But just the same, it'd also clue in the fools of the Ministry that there was movement under surface that was causing such turbulent ripples to appear. Another thing he wanted to do was to acquire that accursed prophecy he'd only partially heard all those years ago and finally listen to it in its entirety. And this particular issue tied in directly to the third thing he needed to accomplish, which was finding and disposing of that Potter brat once and for all. Something had changed over the summer, the boy was showing the signs of becoming a legitimate threat instead of the youthful thorn in his side that he had been previously. The boy had created a strange new weapon that possessed largely unknown powers and abilities, and it was rumored that he had even become an illegal Sorcerer.

Though he found that to be somewhat ironically amusing, there was some solid evidence to the validity of those rumors. Namely, the news that that worthless beast Greyback had brought to his attention. The Werewolf Packs, who had been tittering on the edge of joining his forces or remaining neutral, had finally declared their intentions. Though ignorant of his true identity at the time, Greyback had informed him of how a young 'Sorcerer' had been invited to The Gathering and seduced the Packs to his side. The coincidence of this couldn't have come at a worse time. Voldemort had given Greyback clear instructions of what to do at that Gathering: collect the different Alphas, insult the one who was most resolute against allying with the Dark Lord, and then promptly use the inevitable fight that followed as a means of executing the remaining Alphas. With the Alphas deaths under his belt, Greyback would've assumed total and uncontested control over all of the Werewolves of Britain. And thus Voldemort would've gained his Werewolf army in one fell swoop. Sadly and obviously, the plan never had a chance to even be put into motion. The Sorcerer had quickly seized control of The Gathering and Greyback had had to make a fast retreat with his tail between his legs. Though he still had Greyback and about fifty of his hardcore Werewolf followers, the rest of his Pack had abandoned him without second thoughts for the promise of a previously-improbable cure.

Needless to say, Voldemort knew that he needed to draw out Potter, and quickly. The boy showed an absolutely mind-boggling natural talent and skill for the Sorcerous Arts, from what little he could glimpse from the fragmented stolen memories of various Aurors and Greyback himself. If he was allowed to continue this rate of progress, Voldemort feared the boy might be able to meet him face to face in a battle of pure magical power as true equals in less than two years. And that was something that he just could _not_ allow! He needed an edge, some kind of advantage over the boy, and he hoped that the prophecy would be exactly that. However, the boy had simply vanished after gaining the Werewolf Packs' allegiance. Neither the Ministry nor his other underlings or underworld contacts had any idea of where he was. Wherever the boy was now, it was clearly a very well hidden and extremely-powerfully protected location, probably one of Dumbledore's safe houses.

A soft, hesitant knocking on the library's door pulled the elderly creature from his musings. He raised his wand slightly and opened the door slowly, enjoying how the hinges squeaked faintly and helped create a level of ominous tension. Even with him seated in a high-backed chair that was facing away from the entrance, he could feel the mounting fear and unease of the individual who'd dared interrupt his scheming.

"I _asked_ not to be disturbed, Lucius," Voldemort hissed out, his voice scarcely over a whisper in volume but carrying that underlining promise of torture and death that he so loved. The fact that he stressed out the word 'asked' (something he never does) only helped illustrate the already obvious point that he was very displeased at the moment.

"My apologies, my Lord," Lucius quickly uttered, doing a respectable job of hiding the fear in his voice. "But I just received some very illuminating information from my son at Hogwarts. About the Potter boy and that weapon that has the Minister panicking so much."

Blinking in surprise, a serpentine smile crossed Voldemort's face. With a simple application of his magic, he gently and silently spun his chair around so that he could face the Malfoy patriarch properly. He saw that Lucius had a letter and several folded pieces of parchment in his hand, which he quickly held up in offering to his lord. With a simple flex of his magic and will, Voldemort yanked the parchment from his underling's hands without even a twitch of his wand. This casual display of power and control was something he always used to flaunt his superiority over his minions, to constantly remind them of their inferiority to him.

Reading over the Malfoy boy's letter, most assuredly sent to the Manor through a mild use of bribery, it merely confirmed what Voldemort already knew. That Potter had become a Sorcerer and had gone on the run after vowing to kill the Dark Lord, which caused Voldemort to sneer reflexively. _As if he could!_ But then things started to get interesting as the boy described an encounter he had with Potter's two minions. The boy had noticed that Potter had been spotted an unusual amount of times sneaking about the dungeons with them. So the boy had placed tracking charms on them, following them into a warded room that had clearly been a secret research chamber. In there, he found the plans and blueprints of Potter's weapon, a weapon he'd named a 'lightsaber'. In this instance, Voldemort easily agreed with Malfoy boy that the name was quite boring, if appropriate.

Then, the boy requested his father bring the blueprints to the Dark Lord. Having seen the weapon in action, he claimed that if the Death Eaters had access to it, they'd have an unbeatable edge over the Ministry when they decided to reveal themselves. It was an interesting thought, Voldemort admitted to himself. While he needed to know the secret of the prophecy in its entirety, a weapon that was more widespread among his minions and was as powerful and unknown as what Potter had created would likely go a long way to accelerating the war effort in his favor.

Setting aside the letter, he eagerly skimmed over the blueprints. The first page was a recipe of some kind. Looking over the ingredients, he frowned as he pieced together what would happen. As a potion master of unrivaled talent, second to none, he easily assembled the potion in his mind's eye and found that he couldn't understand its purpose. All those ingredients were quite powerful, but in these mixtures they required a large and constant portion of the brewer's own magic just to stir and blend into a semi-flaccid form. Depending on the strength of the brewer's magic, it could take anywhere from an hour or two before the ingredients inevitably solidified. And then there was the note at the bottom of the recipe to Vanish potion when this happened. Why brew a 'potion' that was so obviously flawed, only to Vanish it once it had finished? What was this potion even for?!

Setting aside the potion recipe, he found what he'd been looking for. The cutaway drawing of the weapon was poorly drawn, obviously done by an inexperienced artist. There were little annotations along the edges, highlighting important pieces and parts that were required in the design for it to work. In this highlighted sections, he found a small potion chamber in the upper third and some kind of focusing chamber that looked like it needed a small stone or gem to be placed in it. Frowning as he skimmed over the design, Voldemort flipped the page over, wondering if there was some kind of assembly list on it, which thankfully there was. Reading over the list briefly, his eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in anger, flipping back over to the design and glaring carefully down at the weapon in much closer examination.

"My lord?" Lucius asked timidly, clearly seeing the mounting rage in his master's face.

Standing up abruptly, the pieces of parchment burst into flame and rapidly disintegrated as the Dark Lord turned to the man. "THIS WEAPON IS AN _**ABOMINATION!**_ It uses _Muggle_ _technology_ to work! I _forbid_ the use of this weapon, under _any_ circumstance! If any such weapon as this is _ever_ built, it is to be _destroyed_ and the user _killed_ or _imprisoned for life!_ This is my _final word! No Wizard will **ever** use a **lightsaber!**_"

"Yes, my lord!" Lucius quickly and easily agreed, keeping his head down and his posture utterly submissive. "I'll inform the others right away and have a talk with my son!"

Voldemort promptly slammed the library door shut. His mood had been irreparably darkened for the rest of the week as he tried to foresee the implications of the Potter boy using this weapon against him on an active basis.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) ...Wow. That is all I can say in regards to the _overwhelming_ negativity I received in reviews for the previous chapter. I think I can honestly say that I've not received such a response to a chapter since Ch20 of my Legacy 1 story way back in the day. In truth, it was a little disheartening (part of why this chapter came out so late). But at the same time, I can't help but shake my head at those reviews. I have this story planned out, _in-depth_. And while you may not _understand_ or _like_ what happens, it's there for a reason! Honestly, I'd have thought that you guys (you know who you are!) would have more faith in me! And this is my official response to all those hate!reviews I got.

Now that that's out of the way, I hope I did this chapter justice. I admit that I was kinda writing it by the seat of my pants, quite unsure if I was portraying the respective characters properly. If I made a mistake, please tell me and I'll try to correct or explain it at a later date.

After this chapter, things start to escalate. This is the end of the beginning.


	11. Unforgivable!

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#11: Unforgivable!_

**Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts  
November 2, 1995**

It had been a clash of good versus evil, right versus wrong. And, like all such fights, it was fought between two testosterone-driven dunderheads who both thought they were right, the other was wrong, and no amount of persuasion could change their respective mind sets. But as it were, the fight was something somewhat impressive, even if it was becoming rather routine lately. And it frustrated Hermione to no end that she could do nothing more than just to shake her head in annoyance as she watched it occur on the Quidditch pitch from through the windows of the Gryffindor Tower.

Squinting her eyes slightly, she could just make out the familiar redhead as he fought a desperate battle against his opponent. Surprisingly, it wasn't Draco Malfoy he had been engaged in combat with. It was Vincent Crabbe. And, as was rapidly becoming clear, the Slytherin Pureblood had held a distinct and obvious advantage over Ron in sheer magical power. But to his credit, Ron was a good deal faster, agiler, and much more creative in his application of his magic, able to slip out of or through Crabbe's attacks with only glancing blows.

'_Why are you guys fighting __**again?!**_' she couldn't help but scream hysterically in her mind. '_At the rate you're going, __**someone's**__ going to figure out what's happened to you two! And then they'll come for you just like they did __**Harry!**__ And then…And then I'll be all alone again…_' Her seeming calm demeanor was a drastic and quite frankly incredibly misleading mask to all who saw it. Inside, she was tossing and turning, screaming and crying, begging and trembling in absolute, mind-numbing terror. And it all stemmed from the simple fact that not just one, but now both of her only real friends in this magical world or her life were now essentially enemies of the nation and wanted terrorists. Their crimes? Simple ignorance and a desire to protect her as they struggled to escape.

It had come as a complete surprise to her that fateful night more than a week ago. Ron had been willing to take the potion that transformed Wizards into Sorcerers. It was even more surprising because of how incredibly vocal he had been against Harry for doing the same thing. Then again, maybe seeing how Harry had taken the potion and _not_ been corrupted by the unimaginable power had given Ron a flicker of hope and faith in it? Maybe he understood the stark differences in strength and ability that Crabbe and Malfoy gained over them far better than she had originally given him credit for? Or maybe he had simply acted in desperation to try and even the odds against them? Whatever the case, what was done was done and she knew there was no going back for any of the three of them.

On that unfortunate night that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had followed them into Harry's lab, Ron had seen an opening and acted on it. After Crabbe and Malfoy had taken the Awakening potion and were still under the thrall of the massive influx of power, Ron (who had been barely conscious at the time) had managed to climb to his feet and knock Goyle aside while he was distracted watching his friends. Acting fast, he'd snatched Goyle's wand and released Hermione from Malfoy's binding spell. She had quickly snatched the Awakening potion vials and the two of them had made a fast retreat, but it hadn't been fast enough.

Crabbe recovered and promptly attacked, sending both of them flying down the hallway with a _hugely_-overpowered telekinetic shove. It was only pure luck that they had even survived the impact with the wall at the far end of the hallway. Though Hermione would later swear that she'd felt numerous ribs crack and her spine come frighteningly close to breaking. As Crabbe used his newfound Sorcery to torture them, Ron had managed to grab one of the vials and drank it before Crabbe could do anything to stop him in time. Once he came down from his Sorcery-induced high, he and Crabbe promptly engaged in the first of many fights to come while Hermione fled back to the Gryffindor Tower as quickly as her adrenaline and terror-fueled injured body could allow her. She didn't know how that fight had turned out, but she could assume that Ron had quickly been forced to retreat when or if Malfoy decided to help Crabbe against him.

Ever since that horrible night, the two Slytherins had been waging a subtle war against her and Ron. But because of her missing wand, Ron's Sorcery, and the Slytherin duo's extreme power, she was forced to cower behind Ron each and every time they were within eyesight. It was a truly terrible experience that forced her relive memories of her early childhood that she'd worked extremely hard to keep buried under mountains of unnecessary knowledge. Though, thankfully for her sanity, Ron was able to keep them from harming her physically. Of course, he was powerless to help her on the most dangerous and turbulent battlefield of all, her mind. Thus, while Ron began exerting his rapidly-growing power and skill in Sorcery to protect the rest of the school from Crabbe's growing reckless abandonment of self-control and increasingly-erratic behavior, Hermione waged a private war within the confines of her own mind.

Blinking, Hermione shook her head to clear it of the unnecessary thoughts and terrifying memories. Returning her attention to her project at hand, she carefully used her borrowed wand to inscribe the final set of runes into the metal. Once done, she set the wand aside and carefully picked up a small vial of a glowing potion. Tipping it ever-so-slightly, she poured its contents into the small containment area, filling it up completely and making sure that not even a single bubble of air remained inside as she carefully sealed the opening with magic. Twisting the containment gently back into position, she waited until she felt a distinctive clicking vibrate through it, signifying that it was now firmly locked into place.

That done, she waved the wand over the assembly and the pieces of heavily-Charmed and Rune-engraved metal slipped gracefully into place. After every single piece was fully in place, she cast a mild Incendio upon it. The fires warmed up the metal and rubber, making them malleable. After several moments of this, she ceased the flames and gently levitated the thing into the air where it hovered peacefully. Then she cast a Charm that she had only recently learned, a small piece of magic that Harry had personally created for this exact purpose. A transmutation charm, modeled heavily off of the concept of alchemy. The Charm caused the many different pieces of the random 'ingredients' to get merged to one another on a molecular-level, turning the many into one, utterly unbreakable.

Smiling slightly at her success, Hermione set the wand aside and grasped the hilt as it dropped lightly from the air. It was an admittedly large handle, best meant for a two-handed grip. But it had hand grips on the upper and lower portions, making handling it with one hand easily interchangeable. The activation button was located on the upper third of the hilt, well out of the way of the hand. Unlike her first one, she didn't try to add any fancy new features in this one, besides the safety feature with the hand grip. She didn't think it was necessary to experiment anymore. Besides, she doubted he'd much care for those unnecessary bits.

The opening of the portrait entrance drew her attention as she quickly hid her creation down in the folds of her robe. A familiar mop of red hair caused her to relax and tense up at the same time.

"Why were you fighting him this time?" she asked, her voice sounding cold and detached, once again effortlessly masking her again rising panic and fear. "You do know what'll happen if someone sees you doing stuff so…unnatural."

"I didn't have a choice, Hermione," Ron said, looking both resigned to the lecture he doubtlessly expected to receive and somewhat relieved to be back where things were 'safe'. "He was trying to get some Fourth Year Ravenclaws to… Yeah, I _had_ to stop him! I could've felt their fear from a whole _league away,_ even without…_you-know-what_."

Looking at his earnest expression, Hermione sighed slightly. "I guess that's a good enough reason, but why on the Quidditch pitch? That was not only reckless, but brainless!"

"It's not like I had a choice!" Ron repeated, somewhat annoyed now. "Bastard threw me out of the window and was already trying to curse me when I got back up… He's really starting to fall off the deep end, I tell you! He might just start trying to kill people next at this rate!"

Despite her best effort, Hermione trembled at that admittance from Ron. She had _very_ little doubt that she was _high_ on the list of people that the erratic Slytherin wanted to kill. As she was returning her attention to Ron, she found herself suddenly wrapped up in a comforting, if admittedly awkward, embrace from the Weasley boy. For several long moments, she failed to truly comprehend what he was doing and why. But when she did, Hermione's face brightened significantly in embarrassment and heartfelt gratitude from his feeble attempt at trying to reassure her.

Of all the terrible and terrifying things that Sorcery had brought into her life as of late, one of the few good things was that Ron was infinitely more empathic than he had ever been before.

"Thank you, Ron," she said after she'd managed to calm herself down. Pushing him off of her slightly, she looked into his eyes momentarily. Even though she'd been seeing something similar in Harry's eyes for several weeks earlier, it still surprised her to see a faint glow of magic within those irises of his now. While slightly eerie, the subtle glow made them quite captivating to stare into. Something that numerous girls had quickly started also noticing recently as well, much to her great and somewhat irrational annoyance. "I've got something for you."

"Hm?" he hummed in question, stepping back and taking a seat across from her and her little workstation.

"I made this using what few spare parts I had left over," she said, reaching into her robes under the table. "I figure that since _Malfoy_ took my _first_ one and…the _likelihood_ of him trying to use it… You'd make _better_ use of _this one_ than _I_ ever could, especially with the _you-know-what _helping you."

By this point, Ron's eyes were wide with excitement and realization. Setting the hilt upon the tabletop, she slid it over to him. "All it needs is a crystal—_your_ crystal—to work."

Nodding despite himself, Ron reached absentminded into one of his pockets. "So this is why you made me brew that potion, isn't it?"

"Yes," she acknowledged, nodding her head.

Taking out his crystal, Ron carefully picked up the hilt and narrowed his eyes in concentration, no doubt examining the thing with whatever strange Sorcery senses he now possessed. Apparently finding whatever he was looking for, he nodded before reaching up and gently nudging open a small compartment in the center of the hilt under the rubber grip. Levitating his crystal with a grace that was utterly astonishing, he slid the gem into position between the clamps before closing the compartment hatch. Grasping the hilt tightly, he gently pressed the ignitor and a brilliant blue-white blade of magic and plasma shot to life out of the emitter.

A proud smile crossed Hermione's face as she watched Ron's face change to that of utter awe and…affection? Then, quick as a flash, he switched off the blade and lowered the hilt into his lap. Not a moment later, the portrait swung open again to allow a group of Second Year students inside.

"This is _incredible_, Hermione," Ron said, heartfelt sincerity plainly obvious in his voice. "It's—It's _brilliant!_"

"Just remember to only use it if Malfoy attacks _first_," she pointed out.

"I don't think _he's_ going to be much of a problem," Ron muttered darkly, a strange look of grateful contempt on his face.

* * *

**Slytherin Common Room  
Same time…**

The fire burned bright and hot, its temperature never wavering and its fuel never diminishing. Fire was a necessity for the students of Slytherin, especially in the depths of winter. Many of the older students would claim to have adapted to the oftentimes frigid temperatures of the dungeon, claiming to have mastered their magic to such high levels that they had become immune to such _minor_ inconveniences. Trying to set an example for the younger years to aspire to reach, to maintain the image of absolute control of themselves and their environment. But, just the same, that didn't hide the fact that each and every room in the Slytherin dorms had a fireplace that burned with eternal flames cast by their House's founder.

For one young, secret Sorcerer, the fire had become a symbol of hypocrisy. He knew that the older years had not adapted. He knew they lied through their teeth to the younger years when they claimed to have transcended the need for body warmth. He knew that none of them could truthfully state that they were no less affected by the cold now than they were when they had first arrived at the school as First Years themselves. And he knew this because he could _sense_ it.

That was something Draco was still struggling to adapt to. This strange new extrasensory power he had gained when he'd followed Crabbe's lead and drank a vial of that potion. The _power_ he had felt had been beyond mere words, and still was. But where he had quickly learned how to utilize that power in an active manner, the more passive abilities he'd gained were much more difficult. He could throw boulders and statues several times his own weight and size with almost careless ease, but he couldn't stop the influx of information that was constantly flowing into him, telling him where magic was and what kind was being used. He could even vaguely sense the emotions of his fellow Hogwarts students as he passed them by. But thankfully that wasn't a particularly strong talent of his, only getting the basic gist of what they were feeling.

And how did this power to relate to how he now saw fire? Because, unlike the hypocritical Sixth and Seventh Year Slytherins, Draco found that he had _truly_ transcended the need for fire. With a mere thought or desire, he could easily use his newfound control and power to warm his body and never be affected by the cold again. And, much to Draco's great delight, he found that that wasn't the only limit to his control over his own bodily functions. He was never physically exhausted or even breathless anymore. He could run around the entirety of the Black Lake six times and not even feel winded. He could jump clean over the highest towers of Hogwarts (if he so desired) and land on the other side with all the grace of a bird and the weightlessness of a feather.

But as much as he truly marveled at his mind-numbing increase in power, that wasn't what had captured his attention this late evening. He was staring in silent awe and slight bewilderment at what rested peacefully in his palm. Prior to sending his father that letter that contained copies of everything he'd found about Potter's little weapon, Draco had brewed himself his own crystal to replace the tainted one that Granger had using. What he had been hoping for was a brilliant green crystal to reflect his proud allegiance to the House of Slytherin, but that isn't what he had gotten. Instead, somehow, the crystal potion had created for him a _purple_ gem. Despite his initial displeasure at not getting the crystal color he desired, Draco found that his anger and annoyance hadn't lasted long. As he stared into the glowing depths of the magic gem that he'd created, that reflected everything about him, Draco found that he actually appreciated the color far more than what he' desired to have.

Smiling proudly, Draco silently used his Sorcery to discreetly levitate his crystal into the air. Joining it seconds later were the two halves of the partially dismantled lightsaber, which floated gracefully up alongside opposite sides of the crystal. Slowly, with deliberation and grace, the crystal slid into its focusing chamber, before the upper half lowered itself down and screwed itself firmly into place. Lifting his hands up, Draco gently took the weapon from the air and pressed the activation button, igniting a proud purple blade. Grinning widely at the incredible sense of rightness that came from having _his_ crystal now being the heart of the weapon, Draco quickly switched it off before the strange noise drew any of his more suspicious Housemates down to investigate.

As he was placing the weapon back into his schoolbag to hide it, the entrance to the common room suddenly swung open. Draco didn't even need to look up to know who it was. The overpowering sense of darkness and hate more than sufficiently announced just who had stormed into the Slytherin Dorms. Looking up as his fellow Sorcerer stamped in, Draco frowned at what he saw. Crabbe was covered in dirt, his school uniform was scruffy and slightly torn up in random places, and there was a noticeable golden gleam of peer hatred and anger in his eyes.

Draco had always known that he wasn't the strongest or most powerful Wizard of his generation. That undisputed honor had always belonged to Potter. Thus Draco had had to learn to improvise, becoming skilled in lies, deception, and tricks. Granted, they didn't always work, but the fact remained that he had learned how to use his relatively average power to create maximum chaos with as little effort as needed. He had become a rapier fencer to the common broadsword brutes that many of the Pureblood Wizards were. It was a very humbling and unpleasant experience to have to endure, but he did nonetheless.

And on the opposite side of the spectrum was his friend Vincent Crabbe. Crabbe had more power than he knew what to do with, able to utilize high-level raw magic with little to no effort. But if he had a single gaping weakness, it was that for as incredibly powerful as he was, he was also equally dim-witted. He had trouble remembering incantations, the precise wand-movements, and the subtle variations of stance needed to draw out the power of any given spell. His single proven tactic in any given situation is to just blast away at whatever was needed with nothing but overwhelming brute force power and hope that the resulting debris was somewhat in the basic outcome of what he wanted to have happen. Thus, the teenager had all the subtlety of a troll in Diagon Alley.

"Where have you been?" Draco asked, despite already knowing the answer. His question drew Crabbe to an immediate halt as he turned to face where he could now sense Draco was seated. Compared to Draco, Crabbe's skills of sensory were absolutely atrocious. "Another fight with Weasley? You know what'll happen if you keep getting into those here at Hogwarts."

"Shut up, Draco!" Crabbe snapped angrily, the golden glow of his eyes brightening considerably as Draco both saw and sensed his anger deepen. "The little traitor was asking for it!"

"I don't care if he was or not," Draco responded, standing up and turning to face Crabbe fully as he leveled his own glare at the boy. "If you keep flaunting it, the Ministry will come for our heads just like they did Potter. Do you really want that to happen?"

"_Why should I care?!_" Crabbe demanded. "_Let them come!_ I'll crush them just like those _filthy_ _Hufflepuffs_ two days ago! This school—no, _this world_—is only for _the strong!_ And _I'm the __**strongest**__!_"

"We both know that you're not," Draco said lowly, his eyes narrowing. He could both see and sense that several of the Slytherin students were growing interested in the rising volume of their argument, peeking out from behind their doors to watch and listen in. "The Dark Lord is the strongest ever, remember that. Your powers _are_ getting stronger, but you're also starting to lose _control_ of them. You're letting _them_ control _you_."

Crabbe just snorted derisively, mockingly. "Those are the words of a weakling jealous of another's power."

"I _may_ be weaker than you," Draco admitted, shifting his hand subtly towards his schoolbag in preparation. "But one doesn't _need_ to be the mightiest to be the victor. Your _overconfidence_ in your power and _lack_ of self-discipline will be your downfall if you don't learn to control it _now_."

Crabbe's dark eyes were now a fully glowing golden amber with traces of red ringing the iris as he glared angrily down at his longtime friend and leader. Even without his Sorcery-enhanced senses warning him of Crabbe's mounting power and rage, Draco could've easily anticipated what came next. Rather than reply verbally, in a burst of speed, Crabbe snapped his wand out and cast a silent curse towards the blonde Slytherin. But where Crabbe specialized in overwhelming power and strength (both magically and physically), Draco had always been more flexible and agile. Thus, he was easily able to spin around the incoming curse, which caused the cushioned chair it hit behind him to burst into blue flames. Within a split second of the dodge, Draco had already lunged up to Crabbe while summoning his lightsaber hilt from his bag. He pressed the emitter up into Crabbe's neck, conveniently hidden from sight from their audience, freezing the teenager in surprise as he finally began to react to Draco's speed and realized just what situation he was in.

"Like I said," Draco said lowly. "I don't need to be _stronger_ to be the _victor_. If you try something like that again, there _will_ be consequences. We need to _lie low_, not off starting wars with the _entire world_ to sate our power lust." If Crabbe's eyes were glowing before, they were positively shining with hatred now. Stepping back and lowering the lightsaber hilt but still keeping it firmly in hand, Draco said, "Leave. Come back when you've calmed down."

As much as it must've chafed his pride, Crabbe quickly snapped around and marched out of the Slytherin Dorm without another word. Draco kept his eye on him until the doorway snapped shut. Turning back, he looked pointedly over at the quietly murmuring audience. "Keep an eye on him. He's really starting to lose himself these days." This statement drew numerous hesitant nods of agreement before most of the Slytherins slunk back into their own rooms.

As he waved his wand to extinguish and repair the damaged chair, Draco sensed Goyle's approach. Looking up, he gave his friend a strained smile. "Consider yourself lucky that you didn't take that potion, Gregory."

Goyle eyed Draco cautiously for a few moments before nodding hesitantly. Turning towards the common room door, he said, "I'm gonna talk to him. See you later, Draco."

Draco just nodded as he returned to his previous, now-undamaged seat. As he shot his friend a passing glance, Draco couldn't help feeling a sudden wave of uneasiness wash over him. And the sensation only grew stronger as he watched his friend's back disappear beyond the doorway. After a long moment, he just shook his head and pulled out his Charms homework. He'd procrastinated long enough.

Though he didn't know it at the time, he'd never see his last friend again.

* * *

**Forbidden Forest**

Bane walked forward into a sacred clearing. The proud leader of the centaur clan walked with his head held high and back straight. It is in this clearing that the eldest of the centaurs live. Former leaders of the clan spend the rest of their days in peace, observing the stars in this sacred place. He rarely comes to this place unless a problem weighs deeply on his mind.

"We have not seen you in several years. How have you been, Bane?" asks a rich, deep voice. Bane bows deeply in respect as an old centaur in his twilight years slowly walks forward from across the clearing. Two other elders, one male and one female, emerge out of the trees to stand beside the first elder.

"I have been well," answers Bane. He rises back up and gains a hard look. "Why have you called me?"

A serious expression appears on the female centaur's face. Her eyes hold no warmth. "The stars do not shine brightly for the centaurs. A darkness will soon befall the lands and our people will suffer by extension."

Bane's eyes narrow. "Our people are strong. We will overcome any darkness."

"Strong words from a strong leader," speaks the other elder.

Elder Caesar nods in agreement. "Yes, but for the past two centuries, our people have been dwindling. It is a problem that I was not able to solve during my time as leader." Bane remains calm, but does not refute the claim. "I fear that this darkness may be too much for our people to bear."

"What would you have me do?" Bane grits out, frustrated that these past rulers were still trying to control their people, even after they'd official relinquished such duties.

"Calm down," says the female elder. "We are merely telling you what the stars show us. Bane, we chose you to lead our people for a reason."

"The decision will fall upon you," continues the other elder male. "Whatever you choose to do, we will stand behind you."

"But remember: a leader must do what is best for all, not his pride," says Elder Caesar wisely.

The elders bow respectfully before leaving the clearing. Bane stands alone. He looks up at the stars above with a forlorn look.

* * *

**Forbidden Forest, elsewhere  
Evening**

Crabbe was seething. Things were finally starting to go his way after so many years scraping along the bottom of the barrel to gain what was rightfully his! But those two weaklings and cowards were constantly getting in his way, trying to stop him from progressing or restricting him to their expectations. Why should he bother with hiding his power? He had gained that which he'd always wanted! Why not flaunt it and rub it their faces? Show all those uppity Gryffindors, know-it-all Ravenclaws, and the incompetent Hufflepuffs just who was on top now? And if they didn't like it, then he'd just show them why you never annoy an adder! After all, snakes have venom, and those that don't are useless.

But what really had his temper boiling was the absolute _nerve_ that Draco had! Draco had the nerve to order him to not flaunt his power! Who the hell was he to talk?! The Malfoy heir was constantly flaunting of his family's wealth, status, and political power! This thought just made Crabbe even _angrier_ at Draco for _still,_ even _after_ all this power comes falling into his hands, _still_ treating him like the dumb grunt he has been for their whole lives!

Summoning the magic of the world to him, he focused it before him. The magic didn't seem to respond to him and his commands very well. It was like it was trying to resist him constantly, even in his more passive powers like the extrasensory detection. Thus, he was constantly fighting with it, forcing it to obey him, pulling and yanking and breaking it to submit to his will. And this continuous battle was something that infuriated him to no end. He knew for a fact that neither Draco nor that idiot Gryffindor Weasley had these problems. But in a strange way, this struggle only seemed to increase his own power and strength.

Channeling his power, the magic was warped by his anger and rage as it traveled through him, gaining form and potency. Thrusting his hand forward with a cry of hate, one of his newly-discovered and greatly favored powers burst to life from his fingertips. Bolts of lightning sprung from him, arcing and dancing through the air. They struck at everything within their considerable range, zapping, charring, and burning the dead and decaying foliage without mercy.

Letting up on his power, he brought his hands together, level at his chest. Focusing as much magic as he could into the gap between his hands, he forced it into a compressed ball of blinding red light of pure destruction. Once he'd pumped as much power as he could focus into the ball of destruction, he turned and thrust his hands forward, unleashing the unnamed magic. In a blazing red void of blinding light, the destruction ball blasted outwards from his palms into beam. The air around him was thrown back from the beam, the force of the unleashed power actually sending him sliding along the ground about a meter's length before he'd recovered from his surprise and managed to brace himself.

After the beam attack was finished and its power tapered off, even his fury was momentarily stalled by surprise at what he saw. Everything for about a hundred meters directly in front of him, where he'd pointed the attack towards, had been all but incinerated. A tunnel-like passage that had been blasted through the foliage and trees, leaving almost a gently rounded dirt path down the center were the bottom portion of the beam had only left a grazing trail.

'_Whoa_,' he couldn't thinking. '_**Incredibly**__ dangerous…but bloody __**awesome!**_'

Soft clapping noise to the side instantly had Crabbe spinning to face the person who had snuck up on him, his arms raised in preparation for another attack. A tall, cloaked man stood off to the side, his arms raised slightly as he gently clapped in appreciation at what he'd no doubt just seen. The cloaked figure's clothes were frayed and threadbare with numerous holes and slashes. Despite his cavernous hood that hid his face in shadow, Crabbe could see high boots with his pants stuffed inside them, a dark leather belt holding them up, and loose dark shirt. The man wore a set of chainmail under his shirt and a large broadsword that was strapped to the man's waist, partially hidden under his frayed cloak.

"Who are you?!" Crabbe snapped, ready for anything.

"My name is of _no_ importance," the man said in a deep, hoarse voice with a strange accent. "But what I have to offer you is of _great_ importance."

"And what's that?"

"A choice," the man said. "The choice to serve or the choice to die."

"What's that mean?" Crabbe demanded, summoning power to him in preparation for a fight. "Are you one of those Ministry pigs or the Dark Lord's weaklings?!"

"I represent neither," the man answered, either unconcerned with the furious glare on Crabbe's face or not understanding just how dangerous Crabbe truly was.

"Too bad," Crabbe growled, a sinister sneer crossing his face. "...for _you!_" Cradling his hands again, he rapidly created and launched his newest magic attack the stranger. The entire process took barely a moment's time and the man had no way of reacting in time to block it or defend himself. Crabbe's grin widened greatly as his attack reached the man.

Impossibly, the man merely reached out and _caught_ the beam energy in his gloved hand. The entire clearing was suddenly blasted with the backlash of power that the attack gave off as it was unexpectedly stopped dead. Crabbe could only gawk in disbelief as the man raised his arm above his head and sent the magic attack skywards where it exploded harmlessly a few moments later.

"That was a mistake," the man growled, thrusting his free hand forward towards Crabbe. Crabbe could nothing but stare in shock as lightning sprang from his fingertips and flew at him at incredible speeds. The lightning attack was absolutely excruciating, sending jolts of electricity through his limbs and body, burning and fraying his muscles and skin. Screams of agony erupted throughout the clearing. It took Crabbe only a moment to realize they were his own. It was terrible!

After only a few moments of the torment, though it felt more like hours, the man released his lightning attack and allowed Crabbe to cradle himself, trying to recover from the agony. When he was able to start feeling slightly better, enough to actually open his eyes and feel strong to pull himself back up to his feet from his position on the ground, he found the cloaked man looming over him, wand drawn and aimed at him threateningly. Crabbe froze at the sight, absolutely terrified.

After a long moment of consideration, the man finally stepped back as he said, "Though, I suppose I should explain myself better this time."

"...'This time?'..." Crabbe repeated suspiciously as he finally regained his footing. Did the man have this conversation with someone else recently?

"The choice I am offering you is to serve my Master and to help us achieve our Grand Plan," the man said. "In exchange for your loyalty, fealty, and cooperation, you will be trained in the Art of Sorcery and so much more. You will be given access to powers beyond your imagination, wealth and status like no Wizard has ever had before, and a purpose to fight for. For what is power without a purpose?"

Crabbe's mind was spinning like a top as his imagination tried to comprehend the many promises and revelations that the man had just offered him. The man somehow knew he was a Sorcerer, but instead of trying to flee for the Ministry he instead gave him an ultimatum. If he accepted this man's offer, he would get an actual instructor to teach him in the Sorcerous Arts. He'd have entire mountains of gold that he could spend on anything he could possibly desire. These things alone would've probably guaranteed the cooperation and fealty of just about any man.

"And _what_, mister, would I have to _give_ in return?" Crabbe asked, stepping cautiously off to the side like a predator stalking its prey, examining his potential enemy.

"_Everything_…" the man said, somehow staring the teenager in the eye despite not making actual eye contact. "Once you swear fealty, you dedicate your whole _life_ to the Grand Plan. You will serve, learn, fight, kill, ruin, and anything else the Master desires. You will abandon your current life utterly, take up a new identity, and only be released from your pledge of allegiance at the point of your death."

"And if I refuse to join?"

"Then I'll kill you now." There was no hesitation in his voice. There was no fear. There was only the calmness of certainty that he'd achieve his goal, and the serenity of years' worth of experience in his demeanor. Crabbe found that he honestly _believed_ the man's claim that he could kill him with such apparent ease. "My master will _not_ suffer even an _unknowing_ rival that could accidentally _or_ purposely jeopardize the Grand Plan."

"What is this 'Grand Plan' you keep speaking of?" Crabbe asked. "And just _who_ do you work for that you want me to join?"

At this, Crabbe could see the man's lower face twitch slightly into a slight grin. "Who I work for is a highly confidential secret. I will only tell you the specifics if you agree…But I suppose I can say this. I work for the Consortium… Have you ever heard of it?"

"What Pureblood hasn't?" Crabbe snapped back irritably. Did this man take him for an idiot too?! Of _course_ he'd heard of the Consortium. "It's a Wizarding extortionist crime syndicate that rips off the Muggles with false promises of reaching heaven. Sometimes you guys performed miracles to keep them believing in the hoax."

The man let out a low laugh. "Indeed. That is what the Consortium _originally_ was. But it has grown and evolved greatly since those old glory days two thousand years ago. Now we're more interested in ruling the world…with Sorcerers on _top_, Wizards underneath, and the _filth_ at the bottom, where they _belong_."

Crabbe was openly grinning now. The more he heard, the more he was entranced by the idea. Perhaps this Consortium and their Grand Plan could be exactly what he needed in order to reach the ultimate power and to truly control the world, shaping it to however he saw fit. Yes, it was a very tempting offer…

"Fine then," Crabbe found himself saying, his choice having long since been made. Kneeling down slightly, he continued, "I'll pledge myself to your master, to this Consor—"

"Oh, get up, you're embarrassing yourself," the man said, waving his hand dismissively at the dramatic pledge that Crabbe was trying to give. "You've given me your answer. Save your vow for my master."

Nodding, Crabbe regained his footing and looked up at the man expectantly.

"There is one final piece of business that needs to be addressed before I can send you to my master," the man said. Though the exact movement was hidden under his cloak, Crabbe was familiar enough with that set of movement that he wasn't surprised to see him suddenly raising up a wand.

Slashing it off to the side, Crabbe blinked in surprise when he heard a yell of surprise suddenly cry out from the direction of the man's spell. Turning to face the yell, Crabbe spotted his friend Goyle come tumbling into the clearing that he and the man were standing in. Goyle landed roughly and slipped on the rotting leaves under his feet, sending him crashing to the ground in a graceless heap.

"Cr-Cr-Crabbe?!" Goyle stammered out, looking up at his friend and the stranger as he fumbled to regain his footing. "Wh-Wh-What's going on? Who's this?!"

"What are you doing here?!" Crabbe demanded, his long-forgotten anger returning quickly. "Did _Draco_ send you to look after me?! Does he not trust me anymore?!"

"Draco doesn't have anything to do with this!" Goyle quickly said, though Crabbe didn't believe him. "I was worried about you! You're acting so weird lately! What's wrong? And who is this person?!"

* * *

**Slytherin Common Room  
Same time…**

With a jolt, Draco suddenly shot to his feet. His eyes flew open wide in surprise and fear. His head was up and looking off towards the wall, as though he were looking through it and staring off into the distance. Without a word, he turned and ran for the doorway. Once out of the common room, he channeled as much of his power as he could into his body as he took off into a dead sprint.

He was sprinting so fast that all any of the passing students could've seen of him would've been a vague black, green, and blonde blur shooting past them and kicking up a momentarily powerful gust of wind as it shot through the hallways.

Something _bad_ was about to happen. He needed to stop it. He needed to get there—_right—__**now!**_

* * *

**Forbidden Forest**

"Crabbe," the man said, gaining both teenagers' attentions. "Remember what I said about dedicating yourself wholly to the plan?" At his nod of acknowledgement, the man gestured subtly to Goyle. "Now's your chance to prove yourself."

"Wh-What are you talking about?" Goyle asked, very confused and quite understandably scared. "What plan? What's going on here?!"

"B-But why?" Crabbe asked, surprised and suddenly feeling somewhat unwilling. He knew what the man meant when he said to prove himself. But why Goyle? "He's my friend."

"And he's a _weakness_…for your enemies to _exploit_," the man said ruthlessly, colder than even the dead of winter in the arctic. "Not only is this necessary for your entry and acceptance, but it is also a rite of passage. You _will_ perform it. Whether now or later, it _will_ be done."

"Crabbe, you're really starting to scare me," Goyle uttered in growing fear as he watched the subtle changes of emotion warring on the boy's face. "Come on, let's just go back to the castle. We can forget this ever happened. Things can finally go back to normal."

That was the wrong thing to say at the wrong time. For the idea of things returning to normal, of going back to being the worst Wizard of their school year, struggling to get through his classes, taking orders by the self-righteous Malfoy scion, being mocked and belittled by his fellow Housemates, being made and played for a fool by the rest of the school. All of that shot through Crabbe's head at just the mere thought of 'returning to normal'. He was _not_ normal. He _hated_ being normal. He wanted _power_ and _prestige!_ To be feared and respected like the _greatest_ Wizards in _history!_ To become the singular greatest _ever!_ He wanted to rule Britain, Europe, _the world!_

His rage mounting, eyes shining golden and red, Crabbe turned towards his longtime friend. Goyle seemed to understand that he'd said something wrong as he gazed into those amber eyes that he'd grown to be very weary of as of late. But before he could say anything further, he felt an invisible force sudden grasp ahold of his throat and neck as Crabbe reached out towards him. Hands flying to his neck in a feeble and futile attempt to loosen the grip that was squeezing his windpipe shut, Goyle struggled helplessly as he felt himself being bodily lifted off the ground. His feet dangling several inches above the ground, he stared pleadingly into the enraged face of his friend, begging him to be released.

For several long moments, Crabbe hesitated as he held Goyle like that. In fact, his anger actually seemed to start abating as his grip started to slacken. This small but noticeable lessening of pressure allowed the red-faced Slytherin to draw in a desperate gasp of air. "P-P-P-Please…Crabbe." Goyle gasped out. "Do-Do-Don't…do…this…plea—se."

"You…_big…__**weakling!**_" Crabbe finally snarled out hatefully. With a sudden and final clench of his fist, he decisively and coldly crushed Goyle's throat while snapping his neck. Staring up at his now-deceased friend for a long moment, Crabbe finally released his grip on the corpse. The body collapsed limply to the ground, never to move or live again.

* * *

**Gryffindor Tower  
Same time…**

Jumping to his feet, a certain redhead spun on his heel, staring off into the distance. Something bad—_terrible_—had just happened. He could feel it. An alarming aura of growing darkness was descending upon and spreading throughout the magic of the nearby world.

And there was death.

He didn't know how, but he'd _felt_ it. He'd _felt_ it when someone…someone he _knew,_ but wasn't sure _who_…had just died. It was like an electric shockwave, powerful at its epicenter but fading as it spread out, had been released through the magic at the exact second it occurred. It sent a jolt of pain straight into his heart and soul.

Someone had just died…and he knew about where it'd happened.

Eyes narrowing, he hesitated only long enough to grab his new weapon before opening the window and leaping out. He had a murderer to find and justice to see done.

* * *

**Forbidden Forest**

If asked later, Draco would never remember just how he'd managed to get there. He would wonder how he'd not fallen over. He would remember the mind, body, and spiritual agony he'd felt as one of his few friends was killed. And he would _never_—_could_ never—forget the awful scene that met his eyes as he approached. From the distance, he had seen Crabbe holding Goyle up in the air, clearly using his power to choke and hold him up. Then there came the earth-shattering moment of watching his Goyle's head get snapped to the side at an unnatural angle, both knowing and feeling what had transpired before him.

To Draco, it was a strange sensation that he felt himself fall into. The scene ahead of him seemed forever frozen in time. No matter how frantically he pushed himself to reach it and stop what had happened, it never seemed to grow any closer. His body was also frozen, unresponsive, as stiff and unmovable as a muggle statute. And yet the environment, the bushes and trees raced by him so fast they appeared to be little more than blackened blurs. And it was in this singular moment that he understood, he truly understood, that he didn't just lose Goyle but _both_ of his childhood and closest of friends.

"Well done," a cloaked figure standing a few paces away from and behind Crabbe said. Though his voice was cold and uncaring, there was a hint of approval in his tone. Crabbe turned to the man as he stepped away from the corpse, his eyes now blazing with bright yellow irises of pure hatred. "You have taken the first step into a larger world."

"Goyle," Draco couldn't help uttering, staring down the unmoving body.

The very faint whisper caught both Crabbe and the stranger's attentions, causing them to spin to face him. But Draco ignored them as he finally regained control of himself, sprinting up to his downed friend in a burst of speed that seemed to cause him to fade in and out of existence as he shot from the edge of the clearing to the center of it, kneeling down and cradling his friend's body.

"He's swift," the stranger observed quietly, mostly to himself, as he stared at the blonde Slytherin who was no doubt the second of the newest Sorcerers who'd Awakened. If his luck held strong, then the third one was probably on his way as well.

"Goyle, hey, come on, get up," Draco said, trying to rouse his friend from his 'slumber'. Perhaps it was childish, but he didn't care. He didn't want his friend…_dead_. No, he _couldn't_ be dead! He couldn't—_wouldn't_—accept it! "This is no place to sleep, even _you_ should know that."

A harsh laugh interrupted his pleading. It was the cloaked stranger who was speaking. "Give it up, boy. He's long gone. You know that already. Just accept it."

"Shut up," Draco growled, not lifting his gaze from Goyle. Reaching down, he tried to lift Goyle's head back into its proper placement. But as soon as he released his hold of it, it swung back to the side at yet another unnatural angle.

"This is a waste of your time, playing with a corpse," the stranger barked out. "Just drop it and leave it be. At least he'll be able to feed some lucky starving critter in these woods before he completely decomposes."

"Shut up!" Draco snapped, forcing himself to not look up. With his head turned down and his blonde hair hiding his face, all that the man and Crabbe could see of the tears falling down his face were those that were dripping off his cheeks and jawline.

"Don't get mad at me, boy," the stranger snapped back. "That boy's fate was sealed the moment he entered these woods and intruded on a conversation that was not his to hear. Although, at least he provided young Crabbe here the means of completing his first test of allegiance. That is a great honor. Consider this a warning for you shall have to undergo a similar one when you join the Consortium."

His gaze snapping up to the man at long last, pain and rage burned powerfully in his eyes. Dropping the corpse unceremoniously to the ground as he shot to his feet and charged the man, Draco cried out, "_I'LL __**NEVER**__ JOIN YOU __**OR**__ YOUR __**CONSORTIUM!**_" With a loud battle cry of pure rage, Draco lunged for the man, not even trying to grab his lightsaber or wand. He wanted to _hurt_ this man! He wanted to rip him apart—_limb from limb—_with his own two hands! And with his rage-enhanced Sorcery bolstering his body's strength to superhuman levels, he _knew_ he could do it too!

Impossibly, the man was able to catch Draco's punching hand with seeming ease. The shock of seeing this caused Draco to freeze in surprise for a critical few seconds. More than enough time for the man to jab his wand directly into Draco's abdomen and launch a powerful Blasting curse. The curse knocked the wind from Draco's chest as he sent him flying through the air with such speed and power that he was actually crashed into and blown through several trees. If not for his Sorcery's enhancement of his body's strength and durability, Draco's spine would've been smashed to tiny fragments with the first impact.

Four excruciating impacts later, he finally lost enough momentum to crash into an especially large tree, leaving a noticeable imprint in it of his body in the bark. He slid limply down to the ground below, having lost all his fighting spirit. He understood the truth now. That man was a Sorcerer as well, and a far more experienced one than he. He was going to kill Draco now, for refusing that offer to join the Consortium. Draco didn't even bother trying to stand and fight anymore. He was doomed and no one was going to come and save him, so what was the point of prolonging the inevitable? He just sat there, waiting as the man silently approached him while drawing out a massive broadsword.

But that didn't change Draco's mind in the least. Any organization or person who forced him to kill someone important just to prove his loyalty to them was not ever going to get Draco Malfoy's allegiance or support in any way. Family, heritage, and respecting powerful magical bloodlines, these were the core values Draco was raised to believe in and support. And the only ones left close enough to be a weakness to Draco were his own parents now. And his beliefs in his parents' teachings of the importance of family was too deeply ingrained into his character for any type of temptation to sway him away from. For what good was power without friends and family to share and relish it with?

"Get away from him!" a loud, familiar voice cried out from the side. Draco looked up in surprise as a familiar redhead launched a telekinetic blast that sent the swordsman Sorcerer tumbling head over heels, having been also caught by surprise. Ron Weasley landed just in front of Draco before sending another blast of power, this one aimed at Crabbe who was already drawing his wand to attack the redhead himself. Due to his speed and what was left of the surprise factor, he just barely landed his attack before Crabbe could launch his spell. The telekinetic blast sent Crabbe flying across the clearing and slamming into a tree, knocked unconscious on impact.

"Brave of you, boy," the stranger said, climbing his feet as though completely unaffected by the surprise attack. "But also very foolish."

Weasley glared at the man as he stood protectively in front of Draco. "There has been enough darkness and death for one day here. Leave us alone!"

"You meddle in affairs for which you do not understand," the man observed.

"Only when I can sense the evil of a person," Weasley countered. "You forced Crabbe to kill Goyle, didn't you? And now you're trying to kill Malfoy. That's all I need to know to stop you!"

"So, you're one of the 'Light Wizards' then?" the man asked with an obvious sneer. "What a remarkable coincidence to find not one, but two such Sorcerers in so short a time." That statement drew even Draco's attention as he finally pushed himself to his feet.

"You found Harry?" Weasley couldn't help asking.

"That's right," the man said, a sinister grin forming on his face. "Let me show you what I did to him." Quick as a flash, the man's wand came out and he jabbed it towards the boys, sending a green spell flying at them. As Draco fumbled to dodge the surprisingly fast-moving Avada Kedavra, Weasley stood his ground, grabbing something from his pocket. A snap-hiss later and the Killing Curse was deflected harmlessly to the side, setting the tree it hit on fire momentarily.

Despite himself, Draco found himself smiling in relief. "I think I may actually have to _thank_ Granger this time," he muttered quietly as he saw Weasley holding his own blue-bladed lightsaber. He had suspected that the Gryffindor know-it-all had had spare parts to build another weapon, but he had been content with his own and had felt no need to go raid their dorms in search of something that might not be there.

"What is that?" the stranger demanded, obviously very surprised.

"Something you'll never have!" Weasley snapped.

Seeing his chance thanks to the man's distraction, Draco finally made his move. Drawing his own power to him, he waved his arms about while keeping the man firmly looked within his line of sight. Sending out the magic that he was creating and changing, he unleashed one of his own Sorcery attacks against the man. All throughout the clearing, a sudden crashing noise was heard as a terrible roar echoed through the surrounding forest. As Weasley and the man flinched and sought the source, one of the trees suddenly was knocked over and torn to pieces. In its place a large black dragon with an intimidating array of horns ad spikes along its body emerged, hissing and growling as drool dropped from its jaws. It glanced between the small group before making its choice and lunging for the larger prey. Though the dragon was quick, the man was quicker and was able to dodge. But that didn't dissuade the dragon, persistently following after its fleeing meal.

"Come on, Weasley!" Draco hissed, grabbing Ron's arm and yanking him with him as he turned to run.

Thankfully, the Weasley boy didn't need to be told twice and followed after the Malfoy with no argument. Sprinting as fast as they could move back towards Hogwarts, they mostly kept their silence. It wasn't until they'd exited the forest and were resting against the stone keep of the castle near the base of the North Tower. They had both felt immensely better when they slipped back onto the school grounds. It must've been the protective wards of the school.

"I didn't know there were dragons in the Forest," Weasley finally said, voicing what had been plaguing his mind since it had happened.

"There aren't," Draco countered. "That was just an illusion."

"An illusion? Seriously?!" The disbelief in Weasley's voice was easily excusable in Draco's mind. The illusion had been frighteningly authentic looking.

"You can thank Potter for helping me to remember the Horntail's features and details," Draco said dismissively. Finally turning and facing the Weasley, Draco eyed the boy closely for a long moment, earning an equally evil-eyed glare from the redhead. Sighing, he nodded his head as he said, "Thank you for your help."

Ron blinked in open surprise at Draco. "…Whatever…But can you tell me what that was all about? What happened out there? Who was that guy? Why was he trying to kill you? Why did he make Crabbe kill Goyle? I thought they were best friends!"

"Stop rambling Weasley! I just watched my...I was just thrown through multiple trees! _I'm tired!_ We can talk about this later." Draco snaps out before turning and making to leave. He hardly gets two steps when he feels a hand grab his arm tightly.

"Then this is the perfect time to keep you from slithering away..." Ron states coolly. Even after saving the prat's life he still acted like a grade A bastard!

Draco let out a small sigh. If he hadn't been so mentally,physically, and emotionally exhausted he would have been able to come up with a snappy comeback. Insulting their poverty level was always worth a laugh. Broke Purebloods, what a ridiculous concept! But after the fight... After seeing one of the few people he considered friends murdered in front of him, he just couldn't muster the strength for a _second _confrontation.

"I promise, Weasley, we can discuss this...but later. Not now." Draco responded without turning around. He was already resigning himself to accepting the demand from the redhead, but he wasn't about to _face him _as well.

Ron held Draco's arm for several heartbeats after the blond's statement before relenting.

"Fine, tomorrow then." Ron spat, releasing the hold on the Slytherin's arm.

"Tomorrow then." Draco repeated before walking off towards the castle.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) _**MASSIVE**_ shout-out to my good friend and beta-reader **Fiori75** for inspiring the latter half of this chapter! And a big thanks to my newest beta **He-Who-Shall-Live** for helping me refine and clean-up the chapter.

And if anyone's wondering, I'm modeling Ron's lightsaber after Kyle Katarn's third one.

To stall any immediate questions, here's an approximate chart for just how powerful the Sorcerers are in regards to each other

(1=weakest, 10=strongest)  
Crabbe: 7  
Draco:3  
Ron: 4

Harry: 10  
The Hunter: ?


	12. MagiTech's Grand Opening

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#12: MagiTech's Grand Opening_

**Greenwich Borough, London  
December 22, 1995**

Catching her footing as she landed in the Floo, Tonks barely avoided slamming her face against the ash-ridden and charred bricks of the fireplace. Taking a few short seconds to reorient herself and find her balance, she ducked under the mantle and entered the warehouse's break room. The blinds of the windows were all lowered, blocking the blinding morning sunlight and hiding her magical arrival. With a wave of her wand, she cleaned herself of the ash and dust that the Floo left behind.

"Morning, Tonks," a masculine voice spoke up from the other side of the room. It was Derek Smith, one of the new employees of the factory and a member of the Brotherhood Werewolf Pack that was based here in London. The man was in his mid-thirties and had the appearance of a typical rugged factory worker, seated at one of the tables as he ate a large medium-rare cooked steak and eggs for breakfast.

"Morning," she greeted, trying to keep her partial unease out of her voice and stance. Though she agreed with Harry, Sirius, and Remus on every level of this discussion, the fact that nearly all of their new employees were Werewolves still caused automatic discomfort and fear to rise in her, understandable though it was. She had been raised and taught all her life that Werewolves were bloodthirsty monsters who loved to spread their curse among the innocent, and her training as an Auror only compounded the teachings.

Intellectually, she knew that many of the Werewolves were just as much victims as they were monsters and that most didn't wish to spread the curse. However, such deeply-ingrained antagonistic thinking against them was hard to overcome on such short notice. So, in a way, she was kinda glad when she learned that the Werewolves had decided to rename themselves. They would now and forever after be named 'Lycans'. She guessed that this was their way of separating themselves from the rabid beasts they had been before they'd finally be cleansed.

"Have you seen Harry today?" she asked, trying to override her instinctive unease by focusing on what she had to do.

Smith nodded, pausing in his meal to swallow. "I saw him playing around with the Dursley boy when I got here, back in the R&amp;D section again."

Nodding, she thanked the Werewo—_Lycan_, and quickly headed for the door. She emerged into a long, high-roofed warehouse building, stretching several hundred meters in either direction, but barely fifty paces to the wall directly in front of her. Lining the center of this vast building were several dozen assembly lines and factory machinery that she had very little idea of what their purposes were. The din of the factory and the many machines was positively deafening for Tonks' simple human ears. She couldn't imagine just how agonizing it must've been for the enhanced senses of the Lycans, even if they were wearing earplugs. Along each of those assembly lines were about ten to twenty Lycan workers who were going about their work with a diligence and enthusiasm that was quite surprising to see in the aforementioned setting. Tonks may have grown up in the Wizarding World, but even she had heard horror stories of just how uncaring, annoying, and monotonous factory jobs were in the Muggle World. So seeing a large group of employees actually seeming to _enjoy_ such a repetitious job was surprising and even a little bit heartwarming.

Turning right, she walked at a relaxed pace along the wall, making sure to stay away from the broad yellow line that was painted on the floor. A boundary line to keep pedestrians out of harm's way of the powered equipment, like the large forklift that drove past her, carrying a large pallet full of what looked like large skateboards or surfboards.

Up ahead was a walled off portion of the factory floor, scarcely taking up a fifth of the overall building. Reaching the door to that section, she typed the simple eight digit code and waited for the red light to flash green. Entering the new section, the noise level was greatly reduced to being just an annoying buzzing and whining sound that was easily ignored. There were scattered tables strewn about the area, each filled with various pieces of gadgets, machinery, or other stuff that she couldn't immediately identify with two or three workers at each station.

Passing quietly by these stations, she headed further back inside to where there was a sudden loud roar of jet engines and strong gusts of wind blowing. Reaching a fenced off observatory, she looked down into a basement-like lower section that ran under the entirety of the main factory floor. Immediately within her field of vision was a ring of machinery circling a central area, numerous wires and cables that connected everything to everything else. But what instantly drew her attention was the brightly colored and armored form that was standing in a slight crouch as he balanced upon the device he was riding. The device was one of those skateboards she'd glimpsed earlier, only larger and quite clearly more dangerous. She could see armor decorating the device, with a couple of unloaded weapon ports, and a reinforced engine attached to one end of it.

"_Okay, Dudley!_" one of the techs yelled from the side, barely heard over the engine's roar. "_We've reached the engine's maximum stability rpm! Ease up and come down!_"

The rider just gave a mute thumb's up with one hand. A few short seconds later, the roar of the engine began to quiet down to just a dull rumble. A few moments later, the device began to lower down out of the air, clearly following the mental commands that the rider was sending to it via the special helmet and armor he was wearing. It landed with a surprisingly dainty grace upon a rack that stood underneath it.

A sudden and familiar sensation of a warm breeze washing over her was Tonks' only warning before an equally familiar figure leaned into the railing next to her. "Too bad the engine is still so loud. I'd _love_ to be able to take one of those out for a spin one of these nights. Give it a _thorough_ flight test."

"Then I'd actually _have_ to arrest you, Harry," Tonks pointed out, grinning at the teenager next to her as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Or at least I will have to until you've actually had your little 'grand opening'."

Harry just laughed out, glancing at her with those shining green eyes that she'd come to adore in recent weeks. "That's assuming you could even _catch_ me, Auror. And I'll have you know that I was almost _untouchable_ in the air, even before my Sorcery!"

"Your competition must've been pretty lousy then," she quipped back.

"True," Harry admitted, nodding. "But that doesn't change the facts any… So, why're you here?"

Tonks glanced again at Harry with a deep pout on her full lips, mock-tears forming in her now large blue eyes, and her hair turning long and black to reveal her 'sadness'. "Awww, that just hurts, Harry. I couldn't have just come by to see a _certain somebody_? I have to have a _reason_ to come and visit this drastic and blatant violation of the Statute of Secrecy? You've gotten so _mean_ lately!"

"You know," Harry said in a nonchalant voice. "That might have had more of an effect if I couldn't sense your deep amusement and anticipation."

"Phooey!" Tonks cursed, grinning good-naturedly as her hair returned to its usual bubblegum pink. "Foiled again!" As she looked back down into the pit below, Tonks couldn't help but ask, "Could you please explain to me again just how you guys managed to create these…hoverboards?"

"Oh, it's a very long and complicated explanation but the simple version is we figured out that we can use electricity to generate and sustain magic," Harry explained easily. "Even a simple AA-battery-powered electric motor, turning a runic wheel, can and will provide a long-lasting and renewable charge of magic. That magic is then channeled through a series of wires and electricity-to-magic adapters and converters into another rune array in the engine that creates a weak version of the Flight charm that's used on brooms. To give the hoverboard riders more options, we can even add in small 'jet engines' for extra propulsion and height."

"Wow," Tonks said, once again awed by the sheer simplistic brilliance of it all. "Magic and electricity. I've always been taught and thought that they were incompatible with one another."

"Only in areas of high magical density, like Hogwarts or very old magical homes," Harry said, returning his gaze down to his cousin as he finished picking apart his carbon fiber flight armor. The armor was as much protection for him against the 'military-grade' hoverboard they were testing as it was for actual live-combat simulations they were planning on having in the up-and-coming testing phase. "And the hoverboard is only _one_ of the products we're going to be selling."

"Whose idea was all this again?" she asked.

"Dudley may have started it," Harry answered, smiling at the memory. "He wanted me to make him something he once saw on the telly. But it was Sirius who organized all this…well, Sirius and Mr. Weasley, with a lot of help from the Lycans." Harry _still_ didn't know just how Sirius managed to convince Arthur to agree with helping him on this 'endeavor' but the Weasley patriarch has long-since wholeheartedly embraced it and his passion of tinkering and combining Muggle gadgets with magic. Unsurprisingly, Arthur was the lead researcher of the Research and Development Department, having officially retired from his job in the Ministry of Magic.

Tonks nodded, making sure to remind herself to have a long discussion with her Black relative about doing questionable things like this again in the near-future. Losing interest in what was happening down below now that the flight test had ended, Tonks turned to fully face the fugitive teenager next to her. Seeing that she was finally getting serious, Harry also turned to face her as she reached into her pocket and pulled out something. Opening her hand, there rested a softly glowing blue crystal. Between her duties as an Auror and participating in several missions of the Order of the Phoenix, the construction of Tonks's lightsaber had gone very slowly in the past month since Harry felt it best that she actively takes part in it, rather than him doing it all for her. The only thing now missing from its completion was the focusing crystal…but not anymore.

"I followed the directions you gave me," Tonks said unnecessarily. She couldn't understand it, but showing Harry her crystal felt somehow…intimate, though she didn't know why. "I even did a bit of experimenting with this last night and found something interesting."

"Oh, what'd you find?" Harry asked, clearly interested.

Smiling deviously, she closed her fist on the crystal as she brought her other hand up and forward. With a muttered word, she conjured a yellow rose in her empty palm. Her devious grin only widened as she saw Harry recoil in surprise and astonishment, staring at the flower she'd conjured. "I can use my crystal in place of my wand."

"_Incredible!_" Harry gasped out, eyes shining they bounced between the rose, her crystal, and her face. "Why didn't _I_ think of that?! You're _brilliant_, Tonks!"

"Aw, _do_ go on!" she said, positively preening under his praise. Neither of them realized just how close they had gotten to one another as Harry leaned closer to examine the flower and Tonks wanted to better see his expression.

"Am I interrupting something?" a teasing voice called down from above them, causing both Tonks and Harry to flinch back away from one another in surprise. "Apparently I am." It was Sirius, clean-shaven, freshly-groomed, and dressed in a Muggle business suit (which gave him a _very_ odd, but still quite handsome, appearance) standing upon a balcony that led into a nearby office. "Harry, get up here. You've got a visitor. Tonks, don't go seducing my godson while he's on the job."

"What?!" both of them cried out, both equally surprise, embarrassed, and appalled by Sirius's blatant accusation.

"You heard me!" Sirius barked, grinning down at his young relative and godson before turning and strutting away proudly.

After a moment to recollect themselves, Harry finally turned to Tonks with a strained grin. "Sorry about him…Um, if you're looking for your hilt, I left it in your locker in the break room. Also, please don't use the saber until we've had time to practice with it. I don't want you to hurt yourself accidentally."

"Right…" Normally, she'd have followed up his concerned recommendation with some light teasing, but Sirius had riled her up in several ways that even she didn't want to admit to. She was so _not_ trying to seduce Harry! The kid was like _ten years_ younger than her! "I'll keep that in mind. See you later, Harry."

* * *

**Sirius's Office, MagiTech Factory, London**

"Harry Potter sir!" a loud, happy voice cried as a small figure flung itself upon his legs and hugged him tightly. "Dobby is happy to see you again, live and well!"

"D-Dobby?!" Harry stuttered out in surprise, recoiling and almost tripping for a moment before catching himself. Smiling awkwardly down at the House-elf, Harry patted the little creature's bald head tentatively. "It's nice to see you again. How are you doing?"

"Dobby is doing well, Harry Potter sir," Dobby answered, looking up at the teenager with wide and shining eyes. "Dobby was worried about Harry Potter when he was forced to leave the school after bad wizards attack him. This is first chance Dobby was allowed to leave to find his friend. Dobby happy to see Harry Potter sir is in good health."

As the elf was speaking, Harry had gently pried himself free, kneeling down and drew the elf into a hug. "I'm sorry for worrying you, but I didn't have a choice but to leave in a rush. The Minister of Magic has been wanting to imprison me ever since I told him about Voldemort's return. And now he probably thinks I'm some kind of super-Dark Lord trying to conquer Britain."

"This is true, Harry Potter sir," Dobby agreed, nodding his head against Harry's shoulder. "Dobby has seen many bad things starting to happen in Hogwarts. Many bad things."

"Bad things?" Harry asked, sitting back so he could look at Dobby's expression. "Like what?"

"The bad woman professor is trying to control school," Dobby said, looking very unhappy at the mention of whatever Umbridge was clearly up to. "She creates very strict and mean rules, bad punishments, refuses students to practice magic, and is using potions to learn bad stuff about them."

"That is…bad," Harry managed to say, his anger obvious in both his voice and his expression.

"On the positive side, the little guy brought a few letters for you from your friends," Sirius spoke up from where he was leaning against the edge of his desk, watching to two friends reconnect. The aforementioned letters sat in a little wrapped bundle on the desk.

"Oh, Dobby does have good news!" the House-elf said, perking up suddenly.

"What's that?"

"Horse-man in forest ask to speak with Harry Potter sir, very soon," Dobby said. "He say it very important…very soon!"

"Horse-man?" Harry asked, somewhat confused.

"You mean the Centaurs?" Sirius asked, standing up straight from his slouch as his eyes widened in surprise.

"Yes, Sirius Black sir," Dobby nodded to the man before returning to stare up at Harry. "He say come very soon!"

"Okay," Harry said, nodding. "Can you take me to him?"

As Dobby was nodding, Sirius quickly spoke up, "Be careful, Harry. Centaurs are very aggressive and proud. Merely dangerous at the best of times. Keep your guard up."

"I'll be fine," Harry reassured his godfather. He understood why the man wasn't trying to include himself. With Dumbledore kicked out of the school and unable to give some much-needed protection, the danger of Sirius returning to Hogwarts was now at an all-time high, even the Forbidden Forest was too close for even a passing visit. "Don't worry, I've got Dobby to watch my back after all."

Dobby's happiness and beaming smile easily matched the brightness of the morning sun outside at that statement.

* * *

– **Inspired by ****Thatdude2106****'s "**_**Jedi Knight**_**" –**

**Forbidden Forest**

"Firenze?"

Harry looked around, trying to find his mentor and the one he assumed had called for him. Dobby had kept his eyes open and his head spinning as he looks around for the centaur and any potential dangers to the young Sorcerer. After only a moment, a presence makes Harry turn around, cautiously reaching for his wand that was strapped to his waist. Harry moves in front of Dobby as the House-elf stays behind him, still looking around any hidden dangers while giving the occasional glance at the duo with a curious look.

A figure comes out from the tree line making Harry tense further. "Bane," grits Harry, knowing the Centaur didn't really like him or any human for that matter. "What have you done with Firenze?"

Bane walks forward. The centaur comes to a stop a few feet from Harry. Emerald and silver eyes stare at one another. Neither is willing to back down from the other. Dobby reaches out, grabbing Harry's hand and preventing him from drawing his wand. "Don't worry, Harry Potter sir. This is the Horse-man who asked to see you." Harry looks at him in surprise as Dobby gives a reassuring smile. Relaxing, Harry lowers his arm and breathes slowly, fighting to keep his emotions and unease in check.

"Harry Potter, I have come to speak with you on friendly terms. I have come alone," says Bane.

Harry can tell that Bane is speaking the truth. "What do you want to talk about?"

The Centaur grits his teeth before Bane takes a deep breath to calm down. "My people are dying. The once proud race of the Centaurs is fading away as time goes on. In another century or two, the Centaurs will be no more." Harry hides his surprise at hearing such words. To think that the leader of the Centaurs would admit so openly to him this knowledge, it makes him wonder what Bane's true intentions are for coming to him. "As leader of the Centaurs, I refuse to allow such a thing to happen. The stars foretell of a grand magical war that is coming, that will bring about much destruction and death. A war among wizards and witches and Sorcerers and Muggles that will bring about a change to the magical world… Centaurs do not get involved in such affairs. It is not our way to get involved in the matters of others. However, to save my people, I believe it is time to change our traditions."

"What are you saying?" asks Harry. "You want to fight with us?"

"No," replies Bane. "We will fight with _you_."

"I don't understand…"

Bane gives a knowing look. "Harry Potter, this war that is coming is focused around you and a dark one of immense power. Should you win, this world will be saved. Should he win, the Centaurs will be destroyed, along with the rest of the world."

Harry stands tall with an unwavering resolve. "I will defeat Voldemort."

A frown forms on Bane's face. The Centaur gives a look of respect. "The future is unknown, even to my people. But what we do know is this: the one called Voldemort is but a mere child in both power and ambition. The dark one that must be stopped is far greater and more dangerous than you can possibly imagine."

Bane walks forward and holds out his hand. "However, I believe that you can and will prevail against this threat. You have accomplished some truly remarkable feats already, much more than a normal mere child has any right to claim. Recently, our foreseers have noticed a strange...disturbance in the stars and, especially, the moon. They believe that something momentous with those feral beasts of the full moon has occurred." At this statement, the Centaur looked pointedly down at Harry, who couldn't help shuffling about a bit in embarrassment and was unable to meet the proud leader's gaze. Seeing that his suspicions had been more or less confirmed, Bane continued, "I also suspect that there's so much more that I don't know of and with lots more to come. I, Bane, leader of the Centaurs, pledge my allegiance to Harry Potter. In return, I wish for Harry Potter's help in finding a way to save my people."

Harry stares at the extended hand. He can't believe that Bane, leader of the Centaurs, is offering an alliance to him. Intellectually, Harry knows that a war cannot be won by a single person or even a small group of people. Voldemort and his Death Eaters have many resources, and this 'dark one' probably has even more. In order to defeat them, he will have to work with Dumbledore and many others. Still, he never saw himself as a leader. As a person that people will turn to take them into battle and make heavy decisions. Dumbledore is a leader with great wisdom and power. And yet Bane is not going to Dumbledore for an alliance. The Centaur leader sought him out. The Centaur sees him as an adult and leader. "I don't think I am…"

Bane gains a hard look. "A war is coming, whether you are ready or not. I do not trust Dumbledore or any other of your people." He stares deep into Harry's eyes. "Firenze told me that you are different, that I can place my trust in you. It is why I am here. I will not make this offer a second time. We fight together or not at all."

Harry's emerald eyes harden. If he is really serious about fighting Voldemort and whatever evil steps up to follow, then it is time he steps up to the plate. He needs to believe in his abilities and start to gain allies. A hand reaches out clasping Bane's hand. "I, Harry Potter, will do my best to find a way to help you save your people."

Dobby watches as Harry and Bane shake hands. It would later be seen as the first true alliance that marked the buildup to the beginning of the war.

* * *

**MagiTech Industries Home store, Newham Borough, London  
January 1, 1996**

The cold was biting and the snow was wet. Both of these conditions made for a very unpleasant traveling experience on foot or by vehicle. It was in the early afternoon, the various schools and universities had all been largely released and there was swarms of children and young adults walking or riding home. Many of them were heading towards their favorite hangouts or shopping centers that were nearby. It was near one of those shopping centers that the students received a bit of a surprise.

The new building next to the mall that had been under construction for the past two months now had large and prominent balloons decorating the parking lot and hanging off various parts of the building entrance and front. A pair of large and brightly-colored signs with the words 'GRAND OPENING' was hung above both the entrance doors and the parking lot. The building itself was rather standard in overall appearance, square with high-reaching blue-tinted windows. The building had the name of MagiTech Industries; a stylized 'M' that looked suspiciously like an upside-down 'W' and a 'T' that strongly resembled a sword. Both of these letters were laid upon a shield, giving the appearance that they were the family sigil of a medieval aristocratic family.

Suitably curious by the strange new store, the students began gathering in front of it, awaiting for the appointed time for it to open its doors. Not even ten minutes later, an employee approached and unlocked the door. "Please, come in!" the man said, smiling as he beckoned them inside. "If you would please head towards the central dais, we'll be putting on a demonstration."

The store itself had a wide variety of products, both familiar and strange. Most of it seemed geared towards recreational sports and gear, but there was still plenty of other products that could be glimpsed down the aisles. Most of the customers followed the greeter's request and headed towards the center of the store where a large platform had been erected under a large skylight. Standing upon the platform, waiting patiently for the crowd to gather, was a man with shaggy brown hair and a somewhat lean body figure that was hidden in the business suit he was wearing. Next to him were a set of several strange objects and what looked like a surfboard.

"Hi, my name is Remus Lupin," the man greeted with a nervous smile as he held the microphone in one hand. "I'd like to thank all of you for coming to MagiTech's grand opening and I truly hope you'll enjoy what we've created. Trust me, your lives are never going to be the same after this."

That statement drew some muted conversations from the crowd and a lot of disbelieving glances and stares. Ignoring their disbelief, the man grabbed hold one of the devices next to him. It had the same approximate size and shape of a common Walkman 8-track tape player, with a series of wires attached to one side of it, and most notably a strange glowing light inside that somehow seemed to be moving and vibrating.

"This little device is called a Rune Spark, run by a pair of simple AA-batteries," he said, holding it out for examination towards the crowd. "It admittedly doesn't look like much, but this little beauty is has the power and energy efficiency to power an entire suburban city block for a month."

That statement drew a lot of laughter of disbelief and declarations of the impossibility of such a feat. "Are you kidding?" One especially loud voice called out. "This sounds like a _scam_ if you ask me!"

Mr. Lupin wasn't the least bit perturbed. "To better demonstrate, this particular Spark is actually responsible for powering this entire store."

He proved this by setting aside the microphone and unplugging the wires that were attached to it. In an instant, all the lights and displays, everything inside the store suddenly shut off and darkness descended, the only light provided was the sunlight filtering through the various windows. Plugging the wires back in, everything quickly switched back on again. With the lights back on, Mr. Lupin smiled somewhat cockily down at the gawking, disbelieving crowd that now stood in front of him.

"Clever timing with the lights!" that same loud voice called. This one was clearly determined. "Anyone can _throw a switch_ at the _right time!_"

Picking the mike back up, Remus again ignored the naysayer as he set the motor aside and picked up another of the devices next to him. "If you think the Spark is impressive, this one will completely blow your minds."

He held up the device with some difficulty, showing just how heavy it was. It was about the size and shaped roughly like an American football with a shiny black casing hiding its internal mechanisms from view. "This is a Repulsor Drive. While it can potentially work with any electrical device, it is best used in conjunction with the Rune Spark. Mostly because it uses a ridiculous amount of energy to work properly." He quickly set aside the microphone, plugged in a spare motor to the drive unit, and then locking both pieces into the surfboard that had stood next to him.

"What does this drive unit do, you ask? Allow me to demonstrate." He pressed a button and suddenly the entire crowd let out cries of disbelief, joy, excitement, and confusion as the surfboard and its assembly suddenly jumped off the ground and floated a half-meter in the air. Stepping onto the surfboard, Mr. Lupin gave the air underneath it a half-hearted kick, getting the surfboard to start floating slowly to the side in front of the staring and gawking crowd.

"_Wires!_" someone yelled out, clearly picking up on the other person's disbelieving nature.

"That's right, people!" Remus said, smiling broadly as he continued to floating and giving the air some extra kicks to keep moving. "Boys and girls, allow me to introduce to you the first ever hoverboard. It is not science-fiction anymore! The Repulsor Drive uses a complex series of electromagnets, electricity, and other very technical terms I don't personally understand to give the power of very low-level flight. And this is only with just a set of normal AA-batteries."

Unnoticed by the crowd, the skylight windows above the dais were being opened and moved to the side.

"Of course, what's a hoverboard without a flying car to go with?" Mr. Lupin asked, smiling widely as he looked pointedly upwards.

The crowd stared up with wide eyes as a large, dark shape smoothly slid over the opening and began a slow descent. The car itself wasn't anything special, just a simple Buick. But the crowd all gawked at it as if it was the Second Coming of Christ. Needless to say, the nonbelievers were _instantly_ silenced.

"MagiTech Industries will be happy to 'upgrade' any and all vehicles with a Rune Spark and Repulsor Drive," Mr. Lupin commented, speaking more as a background voice to the crowd as they continued staring. "But we also sell our very own cars, trucks, and…airspeeders. Prices may vary, depending on the installation and conversion needs."

The driver side door to the car suddenly opened and revealed a grinning Charisa of the Glyndwr Pack who waved cheerfully at their customers. She called out loudly, "And remember, MagiTech is the store that has _dreams made real_."

Smiling proudly, Remus turned to the crowd and said, "I'll be taking any of your questions now."

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Heh, I have to admit that I had a fair amount of fun writing this chapter. Exploring MagiTech and what they can create by combining two otherwise incompatible halves, that's something I think I'll always get a kick out of. Just so everyone knows, MagiTech is selling _far_ more than just hoverboards and flying cars. Those are just the ones that are the most popular at this point.

Big thanks to **Fiori75**, **He-Who-Shall-Live**, and **Aminta Defender**.


	13. Meetings and Discussions

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#13: Meetings and Discussions_

**MagiTech Industries Factory  
January 19, 1996**

"I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE GOING TO LOSE TRILLIONS OF PETRODOLLARS OR IF THE STOCK MARKET IS IN SHAMBLES!" That loud shout was clearly heard throughout the entirety of the MagiTech factory, causing nearly all employees (Lycan and not) to stop and glance at the overhead office that their boss used. "I'M JUST TRYING TO RUN A SIMPLE BUSINESS OF MY OWN! NOW GET OUT AND DON'T COME BACK!"

Two of those who were staring were a young Sorcerer and a House-elf, both of who were panting from behind a special one-way window next to the office. The room they were in was a special creation of magic, using space expansion and one-way sound limiters, hidden behind a false wall with a one-way window that doubled as a mirror. For all the world but a select few, the room didn't exist.

"Well, that's going about as I expected it would," Harry muttered, easily sensing the turbulent and dark emotions from the office.

"What is going on…H-Harry…sir?" Dobby asked, looking very uncomfortable using Harry's name like that. The little elf was covered in a sheen of sweat and his small workout clothes were clinging to his small, slight frame almost like a second skin. Clutched in his hands and holding it only slightly awkwardly because of his inexperience and lack of confidence with the weapon was a stubby a lightsaber. Everything about it was small and somewhat undersized to accommodate the House-elf's small stature, including the green blade that was almost half the length of Harry's blue one.

Smiling encouragingly down at his little protégé, Harry gestured vaguely towards the window. "Ever since we opened MagiTech to the world, the Muggles have been in a state of chaos. Apparently, a lot of bigtime companies and services are in danger of going out of business because of some of the stuff we're selling, like the Rune Spark and Repulsor Drive. Then there's the governments, who seem to want to use MagiTech to develop new and better weapons for them to kill each other with. There are scientists, mechanics, mathematicians, and whatnot who are trying to understand the concepts of how MagiTech is able to work within their _scientific_ laws. And then there are the common people, from all over the world by now, who are placing huge amounts of orders for what we sell. Things have been very…_busy_ for us lately."

"_That's_ putting it _lightly_, Harry," grumbled Sirius as he entered the gym through a special enchanted door that prevented those unauthorized to pass. The look on his face was that of repressed anger and darkness as his temper still burned hotly below the surface. "I swear, I'm starting to actually _understand_ why my family was always so hung up on _hating_ Muggles! If those leeches in the government or militaries aren't trying to limit our production or force us into a legally-binding contract, then it's the oil companies, the automotive factories, the public services, _someone_ who's trying to buy us out or shut us down! These business owners are even worse than _Death Eaters!_" A look of revelation and horror quickly spread across Sirius's face. "I _never_ thought I'd say that and actually _mean_ it!"

"Look on the bright side, Sirius," Harry said, smiling halfheartedly. "If you take the military contracts, we'll get a lot more funds for R&amp;D and MagiTech will be allowed to expand into other countries. Plus, as the owner of the fastest-growing multibillion dollar business in the history of industry, you'll never be bored again."

The withering look Sirius shot Harry was far from amused…for about three seconds. "I guess you got a point there, kid. So…what's this?" He gestured towards Harry and Dobby standing in the middle of a sparring ring that Harry had rapidly constructed earlier.

"You won't believe this but House-elves are like partial-Sorcerers themselves," Harry said, smiling down at the bashful House-elf before them.

"What?!" Sirius asked, very surprised.

"I really don't quite understand it either," Harry admitted. "But I can sense the potential for Sorcery in Dobby, and Kreacher for that matter. I'm trying to teach him how to tap into it."

"And the mini-lightsaber?" Sirius asked. "Last I checked, you didn't need to be a Sorcerer to use or make one of those."

"Dobby wants to help Harry Potter sir however way he can!" Dobby declared loudly, gazing up at Sirius with a firm stare. "And Dobby thinks that learning how to fight is the best way possible with the Dark One growing strong again!"

"Can't argue with that," Sirius acknowledged, nodding to the elf in agreement.

"To be honest, Dobby's surprisingly good with tha—" That was when the pain hit. It was so severe that he thought that someone must have sliced into the top of his head. He did not know where he was, whether he was standing or lying down. He did not even know his own name…

_Maniacal laughter was ringing in his ears…He was happier than he had been in a very long time…Jubilant, ecstatic, triumphant…A wonderful, wonderful thing had happened…_

"Harry? HARRY!"

_Someone had hit him around the face. The insane laughter was punctuated with a cry of pain. The happiness was draining out of him, but the laughter continued…_

He opened his eyes and as he did so, he became aware that the wild laughter was coming out of his own mouth. The moment he realized this, it died away. Harry lay panting on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, the scar on his forehead throbbing horribly as an alien magical energy burned hotly with negative power. Sirius and Dobby were bending over him, looking equally very worried.

"What happened?" Sirius demanded.

"I…dunno…" Harry gasped out, sitting up again. His hand went up to his forehead, still sensing that maleficent power that was embedded there. But even as he focused upon it, he could feel it rapidly fading away into little more than a faint ripple of disturbance within his own magical energies. What was that?! Shaking his head to try and focus on answering his godfather, he said, "He's…really happy…_really_ happy…"

"You-Know-Who is?"

"Something good's happened," mumbled Harry. "Something he's been hoping for."

"This isn't good," Sirius said quietly, glancing to the side where there was a fireplace that Harry knew was connected to the Floo.

"Go on," Harry beckoned with his free hand. "They need to know and I've got Dobby with me. Everything will be fine."

Sirius didn't put up an argument as he quickly departed. This was something that Harry was very grateful for. He was starting to shake badly as his body reflexively tried to correct itself from the foul taint that had briefly taken over it. Shivers had spread throughout his body, his limbs going slightly numb, and his vision was blurring. He hoped it would pass, and quickly. But the thing that was causing him the most grief was that his magical awareness that Sorcery provided had all but vanished, leaving him feeling blind and deaf to the world around him. It was not a feeling he was accustomed to and he quickly found he _didn't_ _like it_. It made him feel weak and helpless again.

It wouldn't be until the next day that Harry found out just what had happened to cause Voldemort to be so ecstatically happy. A mass breakout from Azkaban had occurred with over ten high-profile Death Eaters escaping.

* * *

**MagiTech Industries  
January 23, 1996**

It was cloudy and cold, so a fairly typical British day. Inside the factory, it was bright and very warm, quite a stark contrast. But the hustle and bustle of the goings-on that took place in the primary portion of the factory was every bit as crowded and hurried as the city streets outside. Even with her and her friend walking along the edge of the wall, there was heavy traffic as numerous employees hurried from here to there.

"Come on, Ashley," her friend Janet said as she stepped through the doorway into the R&amp;D portion of the factory. "I haven't had a chance to show you my lab."

"Oh great!" the golden haired 14-year-old girl chimed in a falsely-excited voice as she entered the doorway and stepped through carelessly. She was rather small, even for her age, but had an athletic build that gave her a trim and streamlined figure. Something that was visible even through the heavy layers of winter clothes she wore. "I finally get to see your nerd lab!"

A loud explosion accented by a shout of "Watch it!" had Ashley immediately recoiling backwards into Janet's side as an armored body was flung through the airspace that she had formerly occupied. Following the body, she watched with wide eyes as it slammed into a brick wall several paces away, landing in a crouch as the wall cracked and crumbled behind it. After only a second to recoil its footing, the armored figure stood back upright and walked forward.

"Sorry about that," a voice called out in a distinctly taunting tone. Turning back to where the figure had come flying from, Ashley saw one of the men in lab coats lowering what looked like some kind of hammer that had a glowing crystal embedded in its center. "Did I hit you too hard? You said that your armor could take it."

"Ha! I didn't feel a thing!" the armored figure shot back arrogantly, banging his fist against a noticeable dent in his chestplate. As the figure was nearing her and Janet, it paused and came to stop in front of them. "Who are you?" It was a muffled boy's voice that asked from under the face mask. Ashley couldn't see his face, but she could definitely tell from his scent that he was a normal human boy. That alone was quite weird considering that MagiTech employed only beings who had magical affinity or powers.

"Evening, Dudley," Janet greeted immediately, smiling down at the slightly shorter boy, compared to her own height. Tall, dark-haired, and slightly overweight, Janet was more of a researcher than a warrior, which is why the 24-year-old had jumped at the chance to get employed at the factory when she was offered the option. Gesturing to her younger companion, she said, "This is Ashely Felix, my roommate back with the Pack. Ashely, this is Dudley Dursley. He's the Cleanser's cousin and one of our best researchers."

Taking reaching up and taking off his helmet, a rather cute blonde boy in his mid-teens brushed some of his hair out of his eyes as he stared at Ashley for a brief moment, studying her. "Welcome to the Nerd Lab," he greeted, clearly having heard her from earlier. Before Ashley could formulate a proper retort, he turned and continued his walk back towards where he'd started. "Howard! It worked like I said it would! You owe me 50 pounds!"

"That remains to be seen, Dursley!" one of the other men dressed in a white lab coat called back. "Another few tests will verify it."

"What was that about?!" Ashley immediately asked as she turned back to Janet, following her as she headed towards a stairwell that led into the basement area. "Why is a Muggle boy working in MagiTech?! I thought only Lycans or Wizards could work here!"

"That may be true," Janet answered, reaching and descending the stairs. "But since we're selling to Muggles, we have to at least a few around to know if our products work with them as they're supposed to."

Reaching the bottom level, Janet grasped ahold of the doorknob as she turned back to her young friend. "Remember what I said about what I was building would completely blow your mind? Well, here it is."

Dramatically opening the door and stepping through, Janet held the door open and watched Ashley closely to savor her reaction. And it was definitely a reaction she'd been hoping for. Ashley's mouth fell open in disbelief as her widening eyes gazed up at the shining piece of machinery in front of her. Even without being a mechanic or in any way a scientist, Ashley could immediately identify what she was seeing. Sure, she may not have known its official name but she knew without a doubt just what it was.

"Its codename is the FRV-100," Janet supplied, smiling in pride as Ashley stepped out of the stairwell to gain a better view of the construction taking place in front of her. "It's the first of our new aerial vehicles that we plan to introduce to the public later this month. It's fully equipped but also designed to be easily modified. So…what do you think?"

"…I want one," Ashley said, not able to tear her eyes from the beautiful creation in front of her. "I want one now!"

Janet just chuckled. "Well, they're not going to be officially on the market until March 15. Although, Mr. Black did promise that he'd personally see to it that each employee would get their own unique one, free of charge, for every hundred we sell."

That was a slight fib on her part. Mr. Black had promised to sell MagiTech products to all Lycans and employees at heavily discounted rates, something that he has since kept to his word about. And considering that the price tag was rumored to likely be somewhere in the hundreds of thousands (simply due to just how unbelievably complex the machines were) that was quite a deal. Janet had little doubt that every employee would be trying to get their own within a month or two since she had little doubt that these things would be every bit as hot in demand as their hoverboards and flying cars were. It was just too bad that most countries of the world had immediately outlawed MagiTech's flying cars, ostensibly for the purpose of drawing up new safety regulations and speed/flying limits within cities and/or the countryside.

Finally tearing her gaze from the vehicle, Ashley turned wide, wet, begging eyes to Janet as she practically cried out, "Where do I sign up?!"

Technically, Janet knew that Ashley didn't have to actually sign up to MagiTech in order to get one of the FRV-100s since they lived together. But the begging question still drew a satisfied smile to her face. She knew that she'd get her into the factory if she could get her interested. Ashley had a deep love and fascination for flying in all its forms, with a natural skill that was truly astounding. And it would seem that MagiTech's unofficial 'spaceship' was just the trick to catch her interest.

* * *

**Forbidden Forest  
January 29, 1996**

It was a cold, snowy day this far in the north of Scotland. With snowflakes falling heavily from the skies, relatively strong and bitter winds blowing, and just the overall frozen barrenness of winter, it wasn't a good day to be out and about doing anything unless there was absolutely no other choice. Which is why, of course, today was the day that Harry and the Centaur leaders had decided to finally begin some very important discussions surrounding the Centaurs' troubles and how Harry could potentially help them. Suffice to say, Harry's idea was radical to the extreme and it set the Centaurs slightly off balance as they considered the ramifications of it.

"You are sure this will work as you intend?" Bane asked skeptically.

"I haven't truly tried it yet, no," Harry admitted. "But I am confident I can get it to work once it gets started. I've been studying ways to see if it was possible ever since you suggested that you wanted more 'running space' than just the forest."

Bane nodded slowly as he remembered that particular discussion they'd had more than month ago. "But still, where you are suggesting is it be made is almost right next to the den of those filthy _beasts_ the Ministry employs. My people have suffered _enough_ at the hands of those _creatures!_"

"What?!" Harry asked, somewhat startled. "They sent those things on your people too?!"

"Not in the manner you think," a beautiful female Centaur spoke up from nearby. As the leading magical of the Centaurs, she had been brought into their discussions of strengthening the ailing herd quite early. Her name was Tanja, a very rare cream-colored lady with a very soft smile when she chose to use it. "They merely came to bother us when they needed feeding during your godfather's escapades a few years ago. Although, they did cause a lot of distress among us whenever they left their posts."

"Which was almost a nightly occurrence," Bane added, quite disgustedly. Turning back to Harry, he said, "Tell me why you feel you should create our new home in a place so close by to the den of those monsters."

Even with his mind reeling at the revelation of the Dementors harassing the innocent Centaur herd, Harry was still able to collect his thoughts and answer the leader as calmly as he could. "Firstly because it's out in the middle of open water, far from any land. So it is not the first place that the Ministry will think to look when they discover that the herd has left the Forbidden Forest. Second, Tanja and her apprentices should be easily able to raise up various spells or wards or whatever to protect your new home from detection. And thirdly, because I know of at least one weapon that can _kill_ Dementors."

"Impossible!" Tanja and Bane both gasped out.

"It is possible," Harry said, smiling proudly. "But the weapon can only be built using a combination of magical spells, potions, and Muggle technology. It's very complex, but also very powerful in its own right. And I'd be very happy to share this weapon with your people if it means you'll be able to better protect yourselves."

"And what weapon could possibly kill those monsters?" Bane asked, very interested but also quite cautious. "Dementors are shades of the dark side of magic. Representations and manifestations of everything foul and wrong with it. How could anything possibly be able to destroy that which all other types of magic have failed to do so?"

"Because all previous attempts has never tried to combine magic with and into something else," Harry said, drawing his lightsaber and holding it out for Bane to take and examine. "This weapon, I call it a lightsaber, has many different uses, powers, and abilities. But the three you will most likely wish to know about are it can kill Dementors, can deflect certain types of magic spells, even the Killing Curse, and can cut through just about anything."

"Very powerful, indeed," Bane commented, gently rolling the hilt around in his large hand. Though the hilt was large enough for Harry to easily wield with both hands, it was little more than a toy for children in Bane's enormous grasp. Seeing a distinct button on one end, he pressed it and stared at the blue blade that sprang to life. Waving it around experimentally, he frowned as he quickly came across something, a very unhappy revelation.

"This weapon would not be suitable for Centaurs. It is too short and wouldn't help us cover our flanks very well." He demonstrated this by trying to swing the blade backwards to block an imaginary strike against his rump. While he was able to partially reach it, Harry could see his point quite clearly. "This is why we Centaurs prefer to use spears and lances in close-quarters combat."

"Is that your only complaint about it?" Harry asked with a relieved grin. Bane nodded glancing at Harry. "That's easily fixed. We can just add a staff extension to it if you want, make it into a light…_pike_. Would that help?"

Looking down into the teenaged Sorcerer's earnest expression, a wane grin pulled at Bane's face as he switched off the lightsaber and handed it back to him. "A…lightpike would do nicely, yes…And you're _sure_ these weapons can kill Dementors?"

"I've already killed _four_ of them with this blade alone," Harry assured the Centaur. "When would you like me teach you how to build one of these?"

"Immediately," Bane said.

"No," Tanja interrupted, drawing the boys' attentions. "_First_, you should get to work on creating our sanctuary and getting it ready for colonization. _Then_, you can teach him how to better kill monsters." After a moment of staring, the two males looked at one another. Harry just shrugged as Bane nodded in agreement.

Seeing the pensive look that suddenly crossed Harry's face, Tanja knelt down slightly to look into face on a level closer to his own. Earning a questioning glance from the boy, she said, "There's something else bothering you, isn't there? Something…bad."

A look of surprise flashed across Harry's face before his face dropped and he let out a low sigh. Nodding, he said, "I recently had a…vision of Voldemort. And when I was coming out of it, I sensed something…a piece of _him_ inside me… It was a terrible feeling."

Tanja's eyes widened in surprise, but Bane's narrowed in contemplation. Before Bane could likely question the security of Harry's mind against mental influence from Voldemort, Tanja quickly stood back up to her full height and beckoned Harry over towards the side. "Come. Let me take a look at that. Maybe we can a way to deal with it."

A hopeful look flashed across Harry's face for a moment before he glanced over at Bane, silently asking permission. Bane just hummed loudly as he turned and started walking away. There were still plenty of matters for him to attend to with the herd, so he didn't much care what the boy did on his free time. Harry was quick to jog after Tanja as she headed to a more secluded portion of the Centaur lands for a magical examination.

* * *

**(Author's Note)** Big shout-out to my betas: **Aminta defender**, **Fiori75,** and **He-Who-Shall-Live**. Sorry about the long, long wait. Let's just say that I procrastinated in working on this particular chapter because my creativity vanished due to a poorly thought out idea that had been plaguing my head since MagiTech's Grand Opening in the last chapter. That being said, I'd say that there's a strong chance this story isn't going to run for much longer, maybe another two or three chapters if that.

However, that isn't to say that I'm abandoning this story. Far from it. I've actually been speaking with a few people about creating a type of Expanded Universe for this story, side stories that occur parallel to this story that tell of what happens in other portions of this story that I've neglected to update. The reason for this is to more fully explore this new world I've created, but the sheer enormity of everything that can and will take place is simply too large for me to handle on my own.

Thus, keep an eye on **Aminta defender **and **He-Who-Shall-Live**. For they are working on a pair of such side stories: Mayhem at Hogwarts and Madness of Minister Fudge, respectively.

Again, sorry about the wait and I hope to get the next chapters out much more quickly. Until next time!


	14. Mystics, Warlocks, and Aerial Joyrides!

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#14: Mystics, Warlocks, and Aerial Joyrides!_

**Forbidden Forest  
February 5, 1996**

This was, without a doubt, one of the most incredible moments of Harry Potter's young life to date. Dressed in a simple woolen robe as protection from the snow and winds, he was walking beside Tanja, nervous energy exuding from his pores like sweat. Shivers were running rampant through his body as the cold pressed in on him from all directions, and he had to actively fight his newfound instinct to use his Sorcery to insulate and warm himself against the cold.

"Remember, young Harry," Tanja was speaking softly as they walked slowly down a beaten path through the woods. The Centaur mystic was covered in exotic but beautiful paints of blues, greens, yellows, and a few stripes of red. The paint was so intricately done and with such an amazing precision that Harry honestly wondered how long it must've taken.

They were approaching a clearing that had the throbbing din of drums echoing through the air, so strong that Harry could feel the vibrations trembling and beating through his skin and body as though they were waves in the ocean. "No matter what happens, you _must not_ use magic of _any_ sort, for _any_ reason. If you do, you will ruin the ceremony and could trigger some very…catastrophic magical backlashes onto yourself, me, and all of us gathered there."

"This ceremony is that dangerous?" he asked, feeling even more uncertain. When he heard that Tanja and her mystics could somehow remove the piece of Voldemort that was embedded within him, Harry had jumped at the offer given. But now he was having some very serious second thoughts. "If it's that dangerous for you, then we don't have to do this. I would rather not force this upon you. I can always find another way to get rid of Voldemort."

"Perhaps you could," Tanja acknowledged, nodding down at his smaller form. "But the ceremony isn't particularly dangerous, just…delicate. Nature exists in a delicate state of balance. When we use our magic, we tamper with that balance. To not respect that balance is to not respect nature. And that can lead to devastating consequences, though we may not always see or know what those consequences may be."

"Respecting nature's balance?" Harry muttered, his mind racing as this strange new concept floated through his mind. In so many ways, especially recently, he found that he understand the power and warning of this idea and just how dangerous upsetting balance could be.

"Once I've removed the darkness from you, I will store it and you can dispose of it however you wish," Tanja said, stepping ahead of him suddenly as they neared the edge of a clearing. Turning back to him, she continued, "Wait here. Once I reach the center and begin my chants, you may follow. Do not trod upon any of the circle lines, do not disturb any of the mystics, and do not use any magic. Once your reach the center, lie down on your back and we shall truly begin."

Harry nodded mutely, clearing his mind of all other irrelevant thoughts and focusing his mind on the moment at hand. He watched as Tanja turned back and entered the clearing. As she departed, he gave the clearing a fast examination. Painted on the dirt ground, which was free of brush and leaves, was the single most intricately-made magic circle he'd ever seen before. On the edges of the clearing were nearly three dozen elder Centaurs. They each carried a large drum, beating a deep, rumbling rhythm into the air. Their purpose was to provide both a steady constant to help the others focus and unite into a singularity. But Harry could also feel that they were using the instruments and drumbeats to create a powerful barrier to isolate the magic within the clearing, preventing any of it from escaping.

Seated on the ground on their knees, a group of twenty Centaurs who were painted in nearly matching patterns of blues, greens, and blacks were chanting in a language that he didn't understand. Their bodies and torsos were contorting and undulating in sporadic yet smooth movements, their eyes rolled upwards as they focused themselves into their chants and the rising magic. Even without his Sorcery, Harry could've felt the magic gathering, flowing, and building. It was building up into nearly an electric charge, vibrating and wavering, fluctuating and smoothing out wildly and at seemingly random intervals. As they summoned and focused their power, the body paint they wore began to illuminate, glowing brightly in the darkness of the night.

Seeing Tanja standing in the center and beginning her chants, Harry took a long, steadying breath and entered the clearing. Following the Centaur mystic's directions exactly, Harry reached the center and silently lay down on his back. Tanja stood over his body, her voice louder than the gathered Centaur mystics. Her movements were as equally much more vibrant and pronounced as her body paint was when compared to the others around them. Harry could feel her struggling to grasp ahold of the churning magic around them and guide it.

If he could've, he would've reached out a hand to help steady and reinforce her. But he had been quite sternly ordered to not interfere with the ritual in any way, which included using magic in of any type for any reason. Trying to relax was a very difficult thing for Harry to achieve as the amassed magical energy of the clearing was wreaking havoc with his Sorcery senses. It made him feel incredibly restless, energetic, building into a powerful desire and _need_ to rise and do _something_.

But thankfully for his nerves, Harry felt an almost intangible shift in the air. Tanja had finally wrested control of the magic. Before his very eyes, Harry watched as Tanja slowly and gracefully turned to face him. She was gently rolling her hands in the vague shape of a circle, trails of brilliant blue and white gaseous magic swirling in the wake of her movements. The drums at the clearing's edge began beating much more loudly and to a faster rhythm. The gathered mystics raised their arms up into the air with such unison that it was almost as though they were all of one mind and body. The paint of their bodies, which had been a gently glow, now became much brighter, nearly-blinding.

Tanja raised one of her hands above her head and clenched her fist, literally and metaphorically grasping ahold of the bulk of the magic around them. Once done, the gaseous magic coalesced around her hand, lighting up and seeming to become a beacon of pure light. Through no will of his own, Harry suddenly felt his eyes closing and his consciousness fading as Tanja lowered the magic down towards her other hand, which had been continuing to make those slow circles around Harry's head. Her chanting became louder, but much more focused as she gazed down upon the boy before her.

Adding the newfound power she'd attained to her earlier movements, a disc of blue-white gas formed above the young Sorcerer's head. Once the magic had stabilized, she reached into the glowing disc for Harry's head. Though her hands were physical above the disc, they became of an ethereal gaseous matter like the cloud that they'd passed through. Reaching into Harry's head, the ethereal hands moved and searched. Using a sense of 'touch', she found and grasped ahold of the deep, vile darkness that was hiding within the boy's spirit and mind.

With a firm pull, she yanked a portion of the darkness from the boy. Her hand passing back out of the gas disc, she carefully tossed a noxious green darkness behind her into a special cauldron where it collected. This action of removing the darkness brought out a loud, deep cry of agony from the unconscious boy below her. Undeterred by the boy's screams, Tanja reached back through the disc. Grasping yet more of the darkness, she pulled out more and more of it, ignoring Harry's ongoing screams as his voice quickly turned hoarse.

After four successive removals, she dipped her hands once again back inside. She could no long 'feel' any more of the darkness, but she could feel a deep well of convulsing magic within him. She could feel a deadly poison trying to kill him and a life-giving fluid that was trying to heal him. This war of killing and rejuvenation was repeating itself in an ever-going clash all throughout his body, putting an incredible strain upon the boy's magic as it acted as a type of buffer to the two forces isolated away from the rest of him. She knew that sooner or later, even with the enhancement of Sorcery, his magic would give out and his body would be ripped to shreds by the eternal clash of the poison and antidote. They must be removed as well, for they didn't belong in him anymore than the darkness did.

Withdrawing her hands from the disc, Tanja's chanting began to change. Swirling her hands, she formed a ball of convulsing magic between her fingers. Gently lowering this new magic down to the boy, the small ball expanded as it engulfed his body. Lifting the boy weightlessly off the ground with his arms and legs hanging lifelessly around him, he floated a meter or so with the wild magic encircling, penetrating, and flowing through him. Once she felt that her magic had filled up the boy's entire body, down to the last cell, she clenched his hands into fists. This action was followed by the magic forming a blinding golden sphere around the boy, almost forming a physical entity as the amassed magic went to work. From within this golden sphere, Harry's hoarse voice could be faintly heard crying out yet again in agony. Thankfully, this agony only lasted a brief moment as the magic purged him of the basilisk venom and phoenix tears that had for so long lingered inside him.

Once done, the young Sorcerer was lowered almost daintily down to the ground again. As he set down, the Centaur mystics began quieting their chanting. The shining body paint they wore faded. The nearly deafening drums around them began softening their loud beats before finally falling silent. Tanja raised her arms skyward, opening her hands as she released the collected magic out to the world again. Her chanting quieting down to soft whispers, she stepped back and knelt to the ground. Once she was seated, she, the rest of the mystics, and even the drummers all bowed their torsos forward with their arms outreached towards the unconscious boy. And all fell silent.

The ritual was over.

-o-

**North Sea  
March 8, 1996**

This was, without a doubt, one of the most exhilarating times of Dudley Dursley's young life. Though it still greatly pained him to think about it, the death of his family had been the necessary first stepping stones down this amazing new path he was walking. A year ago, he was a fat, selfish, brutish bully who had no defining talents or skills. His grade point average was so low that it was a wonder that he had even been allowed to continue his schooling at all. And his only friends were more concerned with using him to get access to the necessary pounds for purchasing narcotics without their own parents' suspicions being raised too high. The boy had no true ambitions or goals in life, content to live the mediocre life that his parents had raised him in and wanted him to have. Looking back at himself from where he now stood, Dudley could scarcely recognize that boy anymore and, frankly, he was utterly disgusted with himself for having allowed himself to have fallen so low.

A year ago, he never would've guessed he'd be an employee at a factory that produced revolutionary new technologies by combining them with the one thing he'd been raise to hate and fear all his life. The offer that Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin had given him to help in their fledgling factory had been done more out of obligation to him, as Harry's muggle cousin, than out of a true belief that he had any real talent to offer them. But they were operating on limited funds, few workers, and the high expectations that Harry had unintentionally and unknowingly set, so they had needed all the help they could get. And when it was discovered that Dudley had a real, God-given talent for mechanics and engineering, it had come as an utter surprise to everyone, including most _especially_ Dudley himself.

The workings and physics of engines, the understanding of what they could do and how to get them working, all of it had been only a vague understanding to him when he studied the processes involved in his school for a semester. But when he was allowed to get down and dirty, tinkering with the engines, designing new parts and additions, despite the incredible complexity of it all, it just _clicked_ in his mind. Dudley found that he was a mechanical genius. One of his first inventions and probably the one that'd be most well-known for the rest of human history was in fact the Repulsor Drive. Though he couldn't cast the spells needed to actually empower it, he had designed or inspired a large part of the Drive unit in some way.

Mr. Black had recently tasked him with fulfilling some of their new tentative military contracts, but Dudley felt that he needed a bit of a break. That was how he now found himself hovering several dozen meters in the air out in the middle of the North Sea. He was currently in the cockpit of his very own spaceship that he'd named the _Warlock_. It was a vessel that he'd helped to design with MagiTech's new engineers and mechanics, the first of its kind. And he could honestly say that it was a true honor and privilege to be given this ship for his very own. Granted, it was still technically MagiTech's property since there was still a wide array of testing, performance examinations, and fine-tuning to its design and mechanics, but the fact remained was that this ship would be his own by the end of the month for sure.

Looking over the different computer programs and gauges that lined the cockpit, Dudley just finished recording the latest data in the spreadsheet for the engineers to cipher through once they returned. Setting the folder into the small bag that hung from the pilot's seat, he glanced out one last time over the shifting, dark surface of the sea. Though the North Sea was nothing pretty to look at this time of year, it was still a sight to behold for Dudley, knowing that he was partly responsible for being at this place in this fashion. The thought drew a small smile across his face before he turned and left the cockpit. The _Warlock_'s computer would continue the monitoring of the air and ocean currents, making automatic adjustments to keep them from being blown off course, so there was precious little he needed to do in the cockpit at this time.

The _Warlock_ was a beautiful work of technological art. Lightly based off of one of Dudley's favorite childhood television shows, the ship was a long and narrow vessel with the cockpit at the foremost point and the engines in the rear. At roughly 21 meters long, 8 meters wide, and 9.5 meters tall, it was a very large machine. But that was because its core design was meant for it to be a 'flying mobile home'. It had two levels. The bottom floor was basically one long, open section with lots of empty space that could be transformed into a variety of uses that the owners could install with whatever they wanted. Granted, this space wasn't quite as free as it could've been since the bottom floor was also where a good portion of the electrical equipment, the fuel tanks, and the primary power generator (a man-sized Rune Spark) was located. But that didn't diminish the space available by too much, perhaps only 35 percent. The upper level was the living area, complete with three bedrooms, a kitchen, a rec room, an office, food storage, and latrines. The rear of the ship was largely dominated by the single remodeled and upgraded Boeing 747 jet engine and two massive Repulsor Drives that generated the lift necessary for the whole thing to float and fly.

But because this particular ship was now the personal vessel of Dudley, certain special privileges, 'unique' upgrades, and several new but untested technologies had been installed. The single most important new and untested technology was the new wardshield. Dudley liked to compare this wardshield as being a type of ray shield. It could supposedly be set to block either magically energy like curses and hexes or even MagiTech's as yet unreleased plasma blasters. Or it could be switched to shield against projectile weapons like missiles and bullets. Of course, it couldn't be a simultaneous switch; one shield would have to be completely powered down before the other could take its place, leaving the _Warlock_ potentially vulnerable. But Dudley was confident in his ship and its magically-reinforced armor.

It was the second most important technology that was now being put to the test: an invisibility shield. This shield was an absolute necessity in order to keep the _Warlock_'s existence a secret from the world. It especially made the vessel's departure from the heart of London much, much easier without gawking crowds, news crews, and even the government or military getting involved.

Approaching the nearest bedroom, Dudley gently opened the door and glanced in. Harry set in the center of the room, head bowed, eyes closed, and legs crossed with his hands slightly raised in the air. Even though he was not attuned to magic, Dudley could actually feel a strange electrical-like energy seeming to fill the air of the bedroom. He took this to meaning that Harry must've been using or summoning exceptionally powerful magic if even _he_ could somewhat notice it. Although, judging by the look of frustration on his face, it was also clear that Harry was having a hard time using or controlling it.

Shrugging to himself, he gently closed the door and headed further down the hallway. The kitchen area was located almost in the exact center of the ship, which is where he found Janet McLaren fussing over some designs and papers. Looking up as she caught scent of his approach, Janet smiled warmly at her young superior, "Hello, Dudley. How're things on the bridge?"

"No different than they were half an hour," Dudley answered dully as he moved over to the pantry. "Honestly, I don't see the point in doing these tests still. The FRVs are going on the market in a week! If the engineers are still uncertain about the design and whatnot, they should just postpone the release date!"

"They're just trying to be careful," Janet said, trying to calm his annoyance gently. "We could get into serious trouble if something about the design or mechanics fails and hurt someone. It never hurts to keep testing and analyzing until the very last moment."

"It's still boring as hell," Dudley snarked as he grabbed a banana from the pantry. He had made it a habit to eat a more healthy diet nowadays so he'd never have to return to that obese pig he'd been previously.

"I've got a way to kill that boredom, Dursley," a cocky voice declared as Ashley entered from the other doorway, grinning arrogantly from ear to ear.

"If it's taking a dip in the ocean, I'll pass," Dudley said, peeling his banana. But after a second, he quickly added, "Of course, if you do, I'll be more than happy to watch!"

Ashley made a disgusted grimace at him as she tried to hide her growing blush. Janet just giggled quietly from her corner of the room, glancing up to watch the drama ensue. Regaining her composure, Ashley said, "No, it's not that! What I had in mind is we could take the Phoenix and Dragon out for a joyride! How's that for 'boring'?"

"Ashley, no!" Janet quickly declared, setting her work aside as she shot to her feet. "The Phoenix and Dragon are still only in the testing phase and we haven't gotten the green light to their launch from management yet! Besides, they're still back at the factory and we can't leave here until Mr. Potter has done whatever he's come to do."

"Oh, they are, are they?" Ashley asked, her grin turning positively devious at this point. It was a look that drew Dudley's attention and set off alarms in Janet.

"What have you done?" Janet asked slowly, fearing the worst.

"I may have added an _extra item _or_ two_ to the inventory list before we took off," Ashley said, her grin widening in pride at her accomplishment.

"_I can't believe you'd do that!_" Janet yelled immediately. "_Do you have __**any idea**__ just how __**foolish**__ and __**reckless**__ that was?! You could lose your __**job! I**__ could lose my job!_"

"I'm in," Dudley said, interrupting the arguing Lycans. "I'm bored and this is a good opportunity, so no point in wasting it."

Ashley smiled cutely over at him in response. "I'll take the Phoenix, if that's okay."

"That's fine," Dudley nodded. "Lead the way."

Ashley wasted no time in guiding him to the lower level to where she'd had the Phoenix and Dragon 'hidden'. They were resting on opposite sides of the main cargo bay under some meager blue tarps that failed miserably at properly concealing just what they were. Moving over towards his own chosen vehicle, Dudley unstrapped the tarp and pulled it off, revealing a metallic-gray and blue jetfighter. The M-2 Dragon was by far Dudley's most favorite invention to date, even if he didn't design or build it, which greatly annoyed him.

It had a long and narrow central body, with the cockpit located towards the rear. Flanking slightly behind the cockpit were a pair of raised fins that reached backwards above and below the main body. Though he couldn't see them from his position, he knew that the back of those fins contained a wide variety of mechanical functions, including three smaller engines for increased maneuverability. Currently, the two blue fins had a white image of a flying dragon painted upon them and they were in their locked configuration, joined together in a point just under the cockpit. They were only to be unlocked when entering combat, which would expose the two blaster cannons that were the Dragon's primary weapons. The fins also contained the wardshield generators, to protect from incoming enemy fire. Jutting out of the sides of those fins were a pair of thin but sturdy wings, currently swept backwards and slightly downwards to conserve space in the limited cargo bay. Overall, the entire jetfighter was just under 5 meters long and 4 meters wide, making it nearly less than half the size of most modern jetfighters.

Climbing up inside the cockpit, he quickly strapped himself in and started running through the startup sequence. The refurbished jet engine it used started spinning as its power plant was brought online, sending a gentle and comforting vibration through the entire craft. Pulling on a radio headset, Dudley tapped it to life, "You there, Felix?"

"_What took you so long, Dursley?_" Ashley asked, a hint of teasing in her voice. "_I was about to leave without you_."

"Very funny," he remarked as he sent the Lycan a slight glare across the cargo bay. The golden-haired girl just grinned and sent him a taunting wave.

Ashley's metallic-gray and green vehicle was a great deal different from his. Hers looked very much like a giant arrowhead. At less than 5 meters long, and 3 meters wide, it was so unbelievably small and aerodynamic that it looked like it belonged more in a television series in space than anything that could be aerially functionally in the real world. If nothing else, Dudley knew that the M-1 Phoenix would be the greatest high-speed interceptor of all time. Like the Dragon, it was also armed with hidden blaster cannons and wardshields.

"I'm engaging the cargo hatch," Dudley said, even as he was typing in the commands to the _Warlock_'s computer. Warning red lights started flashing through the cargo bay as a pair of large doors slowly slid open in the center of the bay's floor. "Try not to scratch the paint or I'll be very upset."

"_Don't worry, I won't hurt my darling little Phoenix_," Ashely said, seemingly slightly offended by his remark.

"I was talking about the _Warlock_," Dudley clarified, watching as the Phoenix lifted into a slight hover and started drifting towards the opening.

"_Whatever_," she snarked back. "_See you in the sky!_" With that said, she eased out of the narrow opening with considerable care.

Following after her, Dudley smirked slightly as he approached the opening. Rather than ease his way out, he dipped the Dragon's nose, twisted the jetfighter slightly to reach the maximum amount of clearance, and dove out from the _Warlock_'s underbelly. Once he was safely clear, he quickly pulled up on the control stick and pushed on the thrust. He couldn't stop the loud clear of exhilaration as he felt the Dragon's powerful engines push him back into his seat as the craft leapt forward at incredible speeds.

"I _love_ this thing!" he cheered once he'd adjusted to the extra g-forces pulling at his body. Whooping, he put the Dragon into an intense corkscrew spin as he ascended high into the air, leaving the hovering _Warlock_ far behind. Ending the spin, he pulled the yoke to the left sharply. The Dragon jerked into a sharp, needlepoint leftward turn. Its wings automatically slid forward to provide maximum amount of lift and maneuverability.

Leveling out, he looked out at the skies around him. The sky was much clearer this higher in elevation, but the sunlight being positively blinding, forcing Dudley to slide the large goggles down over his eyes from helmet.

"_Hey, Dursley_," Ashley's voice called out as the green arrowhead craft flew up to his right side wing. "_Wanna race? Last one to reach 400 miles has to buy the winner—__**me**__—a diamond necklace!_"

Glancing at the Dragon's power settings and energy supply, he smiled. Even if he pumped more than half of the power into the engines to reach the Dragon's top speeds, he could easily fly 400 miles and still have more than enough power to return to the _Warlock_. He wasted no time in already starting to shunt power to the engines. "And when _I_ win, you have to admit to my superiority in mechanics and aviation!" With no further remark, he gunned the throttle for all it was worth, blasting far ahead the surprised Phoenix pilot and quickly going supersonic.

"Come on, Dragon!" he whispered, fighting against the powerful g-forces. "Come on, Dragon! I know you can do this. You may be a fighter, but you can still race! Come on!"

"_That's cheating, Dursley!_" Ashley cried out angrily as the Phoenix started pulling up alongside him. They both knew that she could've easily outstripped him, but she was humoring and mocking him by letting him maintain the lead somewhat.

"Says the girl in the plane meant for high-speed!" Dudley retorted, no wavering his attention from his flying and direction.

The miles were flying by at an incredible rate. Barely five minutes into the race and they were already nearly a hundred miles away from the _Warlock_. But things quickly took a turn towards the unexpected as they were entering a thick patch of cloud cover. A sudden warning blared to life. Glancing down at the radar screen, his eyes widened in alarm.

"Contact ahead! Break right! Break right!" Dudley yelled, even as he was enacting his own order. Ashley was already in the process, thankfully. Just as they broke through a particularly dense layer of clouds, Dudley was able to glimpse the lumbering and massive form of a passenger jet that was flying perpendicular to their own flight path. The Dragon and the Phoenix were able to thankfully avoid crashing or disturbing the passenger jet, but they ended flying through its jet wash. The turbulent air currents behind the jet rocked the two smaller ones and sent them into chaotic spins and tumbles.

Fighting with the throttle and stick, struggling against the g-forces, time slowed down drastically for Dudley as he seemed to slowly, too slowly, pull out of the uncontrolled turbulence.

"Phoenix, you still alive?" he called out once the Dragon stopped its spinning.

"_Yeah, yeah… I'm fine_," her voice was shaken and weak as the green Phoenix pulled up alongside his right again. And despite her obvious attempt, Dudley could tell that she was feeling quite perturbed by what had nearly happened. "_I think that's enough flying for today_."

"We'll call the race a draw," Dudley suggested, wholeheartedly agreeing with her. "Let's head back to the _Warlock_."

"_I copy_," the Phoenix turned in unison with him as they swung around to return to their carrier ship.

Ten minutes later, the two of them were cruising at a relatively slow speed close to 5 thousand feet in the air. They were purposely flying slower so that they wouldn't have a repeat of their near-crash. A little paranoid perhaps, but they figured it was better safe than sorry. But this slow flying is what also allowed for them to get some unwelcomed visitors. Maybe halfway back to the _Warlock_, their radars suddenly lit up with a pair of incoming blips.

"_Please tell you see those two incoming planes, too_," Ashley said over the radio.

"I see them," Dudley acknowledged, glancing behind him towards where he could glimpse two faint blurs racing at them. "What are the chances they think we're friendly?"

A sudden alarm rang to life in their cockpits, one that they were quickly recognized as the targeting lock warning.

"_Not __**great**_," Ashley snipped.

Rolling and corkscrewing wildly in random directions, they were able to shake off the locks. Yanking the sticks to the sides, they swung into sharp starboard turns that the two incoming aggressors couldn't hope to match. As the two planes overshot them, the blaring locks died down and the computer was able to tag and identify the two planes.

"Two Panavia Tornadoes," Dudley identified, quickly scrolling through a list of their basic armaments. Most of the armament was pretty standard; a wide multitude of missiles, including Sidewinders, and heavy cannons. Top speeds averaging about Mach 2 with a combat effective range of 900 miles. These were some pretty dangerous opponents to have, especially for rookie pilots like themselves. They'd need every advantage they could get.

"Activate the wardshield," Dudley advised, flipping several switches and watching as a green sphere icon lit up on the head's-up display that was encircling a basic outline of the Dragon. The wardshield was invisible to the naked human eye unless otherwise disturbed by an impact. "Prepare for evasive maneuvers. Try not to engage the Tornadoes."

"_Is it really a good idea to get into a dogfight with what are likely two RAF jetfighters?_" Ashley asked, not sounding as concerned as her question implied she was. "_Wouldn't it be wiser to just cooperate with them?_"

"If you can find their radio frequency and are willing to turn over your Phoenix for government confiscation until after they've dismantled and _wrecked_ the Phoenix to their hearts' contents, you go right ahead," Dudley said, gunning the throttle and launching the Dragon into supersonic speeds. "But I'm _out of here!_"

"_No need to make it **personal!"**_ Ashley snapped as the Phoenix revealed its true speeds and shot past the Dragon at easily three times the speed.

An alarm blared to life again as a missile was launched. Trying to outrace the missile, Dudley couldn't help turning to look backwards as the smaller but faster explosive drew ever closer. Then, just as it seemed it'd strike and destroy his left wing, it suddenly impacted a transparent neon-blue field of hexagons that were the Dragon's wardshield. Cutting power to the engines and heaving back on the stick, the Dragon was pulled back into a steep and hard backwards flip. As he was momentarily hanging upside-down from this trick, Dudley glimpsed the Tornadoes as they shot towards and past him. Punching the throttle and leveling out the Dragon, he rocketed back away from the Tornadoes in the completely opposite direction.

"How do you like _that_ trick?!" Dudley yelled back at them arrogantly. "And they say you don't learn anything from video games!" As ridiculous as it sounded, it was actually true. That particular trick was one he'd picked up from one of his many video games involving air combat. Granted, it was so much easier and much less disorienting and painful doing it on a television screen than in real life. The g-forces alone almost caused him to black out! And without a magically-strengthened frame for the craft, the Dragon probably would've been quite damaged from such an intense maneuver.

"_If you're done showing off, I could use some **help** over here!_" Ashley yelled, drawing his attention immediately.

"I'll be right there!" Dudley promised as he spun the Dragon around to hurry to his wingman's aid.

Even with her wardshield protecting her from missiles and bullets, Ashley was still sending the Phoenix into a wild and chaotic series of spins, weaves, and rolls. Her pursuer seemed to realize that she was built for speed and not maneuverability and had managed to close the distance with some admirable flying tricks. He was now spraying her shield with cannon fire continuously.

Glancing worriedly at her power supply, she felt some real worry starting to creep into her as she watched it rapidly dwindle away. '_The shield is eating through my power supply too __**quickly**__! And this constant barrage of bullets is only __**speeding it up!**__ What do I do?!_' A prodigy of flight she might've been, but she had never been forced into aerial combat before. The fear and uncertainty were eating away at her confidence and skill, making her sloppier than she should've been.

"_Blast it, Dudley, where are you?!_" she growled.

In reply to her demand, a pair of high-powered blue plasma beams suddenly shot through the space between her fleeing fighter and the Tornado behind her. Surprised and spooked, the Tornado quickly broke away from her. The blaster beams continued to shoot towards the jetfighter but were purposely fired wide and well away from it, an obvious warning that the pilot didn't fail to recognize.

"We've got them spooked," Dudley said as he banked away from the fleeing Tornado and drew up alongside Ashley. "Let's boost it with the afterburners and get back to the _Warlock_ quickly!"

"_Right, you lead, I'll follow_," Ashley said, trying to regain her composure. Just how could he be so relaxed and calm in the middle of such an intense dogfight?! Forcing the question from her mind, she quickly channeled power from the wardshield to the engines. And, as the two Tornadoes were circling around for a renewed attack, the Dragon and Phoenix suddenly blasted forth at supersonic speeds, leaving the scrambling Tornadoes eating their exhaust. Only after three minutes of hard flying at those speeds did they start to breathe a bit easier. They had finally lost their attackers. It was time to dock back with the _Warlock_ and pray that the repercussions of this little joyride wouldn't be as bad as they feared they would be.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) A lot of stuff have been happening in these past few chapters, and I apologize for that. I know it makes it difficult to keep track of everything. Hopefully, all these massive info dumps will start lessening up so we can focus more on the story at hand.

For those you curious, I'm basing the M-1 Phoenix off of the Delta-7B Aethersprite-class Light Interceptor from Star Wars, the M-2 Dragon off of the Arwing of Star Fox, and the _Warlock_ off of the YZ-775 freighter of Star Wars.


	15. Conspiracies and Misunderstandings

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#15: Conspiracies and Misunderstandings_

**Brussels, Belgium  
March 10, 1996**

Never let it be said that Sirius Black was a man of politics or subtlety. He had always preferred to use his wits, good looks, and natural charm to help him escape from many otherwise troublesome situations. And when he couldn't use any of those to help him, he'd just bulldoze through the opposition with a combination of his topnotch spellcasting and inventive genius. It was one of several reasons how he and his friends had built up their reputations as notorious pranksters and bullies while at Hogwarts. And the situation he was presently in now held many similarities to those times when he and the Marauders had gotten caught by the various professors and/or Prefects of his beloved old school.

He was seated near the front of a court room, surrounded by Muggles with a few of his self-appointed Lycan bodyguards behind him. The line of politicians seated at a row of tables on a raised dais reminded him heavily of the Great Hall of Hogwarts and the politicians as the professors. And while he had many other politicians surrounding him on similar dais, it strangely only reinforced that commonality to him, as long as he substituted those people as his fellow students and not as the grim-faced shriveled old men that they really were. It was for these similarities that he found his attention to the proceedings waning nearly instantly, causing him to glance around the chamber. Rather coincidentally, seated near him was a rather sharply dressed woman with eye-catching blonde-white hair. His gaze had been drawn to her very quickly, which is why he'd been leaning back and trying to start up a conversation with flirtatious comments about her attractive looks.

"Mr. Black!" a loud voice called from ahead him, causing him to turn around to face it.

"Yes, dear?" he asked into the microphone that was in front him. It never ceased to amuse him at some of the technological inventions the Muggles came up with, such as the mechanical contraption that worked as a Sonorous Charm. So, he had quite a bit of fun speaking into it and hearing his voice echo around the chamber.

"Can we focus on the matter at hand?" the gray-haired, chubby, and rather whiny politician asked. Sirius didn't even care enough to glance at his nameplate to see just who the man was.

"Absolutely," he said, giving up on his flirting attempt. It had quickly become clear to him that the woman was about as responsive to his advances as a rock wall. So, it'd probably be more fun to poke and needle at the politicians. Plus he knew that he needed to get this ridiculous meeting finished anyway, so no need to further procrastinate. So, he irritably fixed his tie as he faced forward again and straightened his expensive business suit.

Why did Muggle politicians have to wear such uncomfortable and easily wrinkled suits that cost so damn much? Heck, now that he thought about it, their Wizarding counterparts were much the same, just with robes. The similarities were disparaging and annoying, to say the least. He made a mental note to pull the duo responsible for all of this aside so he could give them a _thorough_ chewing out when he got back to London…assuming there were still pieces of their _corpses_ left after Remus was finished with them.

"Returning to the business at hand," the man said, giving Sirius the evil eye for the blatant disrespect, which was promptly ignored. "Our priority in this meeting for you to turn over the two warplanes and their pilots that attacked a NATO escort force over the North Sea on the 8th of March, 1996 at approximately 10am. As according to the Regulation—"

"And you can forget it," Sirius interrupted, not interested in hearing the man drone on about his laws anymore. "While the pilots of those jetfighters were clearly in the wrong, I don't find it necessary to force their early retirement due to a misunderstanding on the affair. After all, how were they to know that they'd be shooting at a pair of advanced prototype jetfighters that put theirs to shame in every way imaginable?" Oh yes, Sirius was having a bit _too_ much fun riling up the various bureaucrats by 'misunderstanding' what they were saying. This was why he was never allowed to go into politics back in the day. His _dear_ parents knew that he'd trample all over the age-old customs and regulations with no care in the world. Not that he'd been inclined to go into politics in the first place, but that's beside the point. "Frankly, it'd be an embarrassing way to end their careers."

"Are you _suggesting_ that our pilots, two _very_ distinguished veterans of the Gulf War, were in the wrong for attacking a pair of _unknown_ and _hostile_ jetfighters that were in a _Restricted Airspace_?" the bureaucrat demanded, glaring at Sirius hotly.

"I'm merely saying that they were a little trigger-happy and probably didn't even attempt to make contact with my pilots," Sirius clarified. Digging into his pocket as he glanced at the various large monitors that surrounded the chamber, he pulled out a little tablet the size of a television remote. Turning it on as he continued speaking, he held it up in front of the largest television while he began typing in various commands. "In fact, let's see the incident in question, shall we?" Behind the gathered table in front of him, the television screen suddenly lit up with the words '_Welcome to Belgium, Mr. Black'_.

Laughing softly to himself as the many dignitaries turned around in surprise and alarm as their televisions began flashing the same message, Sirius said, "Look at that! I took control of your screens. It works like magic!" Oh the irony in that statement was almost enough to make him want to laugh out loud!

"How are you doing that?!" one of the politicians called out, both startled and excited. He wasn't the only one as many of the others were visibly disturbed or interested in just what he was doing with the strange device he had in his hands.

Sirius ignored him as he hit the 'play' button, the screens turning blue with a familiar pair of jetfighters flying through various clouds not far up ahead. "Okay, people, let's see this bloody battle from your point of view. I believe this is the footage that _your_ tech guys were going to supply for this sojourn." Turning to another large monitor near it, he typed in a different series of commands. "And this here is the footage that was recorded by my prototypes' black boxes."

As they watched the footage, Sirius couldn't help but arch an eyebrow as he saw some pretty big and somewhat obvious differences that were taking place practically side-by-side. For one, the government's 'official version' had changed the Phoenix and Tornado's places so that it was the _Phoenix_ who was relentless attacking the frantically evading Tornado with wrong-colored plasma blasts. Another difference was that when the Dragon came swooping it, its plasma blasts actually critically damaged the Tornado and forced the pilot to eject.

During the whole playing, several of the politicians and their assistants were scurrying about under the televisions, trying to disconnect them and ceasing the footage. But it was far too late for that. The two-minute aerial dogfight had already played through by the time they finally managed to kill the screens. Despite himself, Sirius couldn't help but uttering a somewhat stunned "_Wow_, you people really are shameless, aren't you? So, what? You were trying to blackmail my company into turning over our technology for you to fiddle with at your own leisure?"

"This doesn't change the fact that your pilots failed to cooperate with our pilots when they attempted to handle the situation."

"Honestly, I'd probably have done the same," Sirius admitted nonchalantly. "I unfortunately have a tendency of not reacting well when people just start shooting at me for no apparent reason and without warning."

"But that also doesn't change the fact that you're developing unregistered, untested, and potentially unstable weapons of considerable and likely mass destruction without a legal agreement with any military or government faction on United Kingdom soil for either said nation, NATO, or even the UN," the speaker pointed out, somewhat triumphantly. "And the United Kingdoms doesn't condone the development of previously-stated unregistered weapons of mass destruction, as well as the sale of said weapons to any personnel within its borders without a certified right to own—"

"So, you just thought you could force me to give you the rights to my company and company's tech for you to dissect and replicate for yourselves," Sirius said bluntly, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"It is illegal all over the world for a single entity to have a total monopoly on any particular trade or invention," one of the bureaucrats said, somewhat self-righteously. "And we are under no allusions that you and yours do not intend to share your technological breakthroughs with the rest of the world in any way, excluding those you've deemed appropriate to sell on the open market."

"But _of course_," Sirius said, speaking slowly and deliberately, as though trying to communicate with a very young and ignorant child. "It'd be highly _irresponsible_ and just downright _stupid_ of me to just make _everything_ my technicians have created made available to public when we still haven't entirely discovered just what kinds of impact it'll have on the world as a whole." It was time to break out the big secret he'd been holding back. It probably wouldn't solve the core of the problem, but it'd definitely buy him and MagiTech some time. "So, as I said before, you can forget it. But, to be perfectly honest, there is something I've been holding back on that you've been hounding me for a lot recently. I hadn't intended to reveal this tidbit of information until after the testing phase had been completed and we could go into full production."

"And what 'secret' is that?" the speaker asked, leaning forward ever-so-slightly in obvious anticipation. The man probably thought it was some sort of hint at an industrial conspiracy that he could use to further his cause, whatever it might ultimately be.

"After much deliberation and consideration." By Merlin and all that was magical, it was annoying having to tap into his Pureblood roots to speak like an uptight bureaucrat like that. But he suspected it'd help him in his cause. "I have finally and formally decided to accept the military contracts put forth by several NATO countries, including but not limited to the USA, France, Germany, Italy, Spain, and of course the UK."

There was a momentary silence that filled the chamber as Sirius paused to take a breath. Clearly, none of the gathered delegates suspected that he'd unveil such a secret in this situation. "The two jetfighters that your armed forces had had a brief skirmish with are little more than untested experiments of various technologies that we were planning on introducing and selling as part of those military contracts. Technologies such as the plasma guns, ray-shield generators, weaponized Repulsor Drives and Rune Sparks, as well as various other minor creations."

He paused again as he let that information sink in. Glancing over at the various Muggle reporters and camera crews, he grinned over at them as he continued, "And while we're on the subject, I'd also like to personally thank the pilots of those two Tornado jetfighters who'd gotten into the fight with my pilots. You gentlemen provided some very valuable combat data that we otherwise probably wouldn't have been able to acquire in such a timely and unique manner. And rest assured, the pilots of the two prototypes are being punished for acting out of such stupidity."

Turning back to the gathered bureaucrats, he finished by saying, "So, you, the various governments and militaries, and everyone else who's working to get a peek at the workings of our tech will just have to wait for when we complete our prototype testing and sell you the finished products, and not a moment sooner… Now, if that's all that we had to discuss, I'll just say that it's _not_ been a pleasure to waste my time here with you old farts. I've got a business to run and some matters of relative importance to attend to with all due haste. So, I bid you a good day."

He stood up from his seat and made his way out of the court room, largely ignoring the bureaucrats behind him as they called for him to return to his seat, as well as the numerous reporters who were quick to rush him with many questions and whatnot. It was with great pleasure that he climbed into his luxurious black limo and relaxed into the seat as the car lifted up into the sky and flew back to the MagiTech factory.

* * *

**North Sea, onboard the **_**Warlock**_

The _Warlock_ was a very small and cramped vessel to Tonks. While it had more than a few appealing characteristics, the rec room qualifying high on the list of positives, it was still a very narrow and limited area for her. In a way, it gave her a sense of claustrophobia due to the cramped nature it possessed. Then again, it wasn't really designed for long-term inhabitation with no access to the outside and it paled in comparison to many of the magical equivalents that were so used in the Wizarding World, who often used a judicious amount of space enlargement charms to widen the interior to be more comfortable.

'_How Harry has managed to remain cooped up in this floating tin can for more than a __**week**__ is beyond me_,' Tonks thought, feeling somewhat sympathetic to the boy's plight and more than little amazed that he could do it for so long.

"I was wondering how things were going for you," Tonks said as she opened the door to the room that the boy in question had claimed for himself. She knew that he was busy, but she also knew that he'd been making no progress and was likely starting to really get frustrated. "How are you doing?"

"Awful," Harry said bluntly as he opened his eyes. He was floating a meter off the ground with his hands clenched into a light fists, knuckles pressed together over his crossed-legged lap. "No matter how much power I try to force into it, how much I try to coerce the seabed, or try to summon the earth, it just doesn't respond. The seabed is set and strong. I just can't seem to break through it deep enough to get it to work!"

"Sounds like you're beating your head against a brick wall," Tonks said, smiling lightly as his frustrated expression. He was such a kid that at times like this she was reminded that he wasn't even out of school yet. "And it sounds like you need a break."

"I can go a bit longer," Harry said, closing his eyes and raising his fists level with his chest. "And besides, your presence is a kind of…"

"_Yeeeessss?_" Tonks drawled out, grinning somewhat impishly as she caught a flicker of discomfort on his face. Her hair reflected her amusement as it turned a brighter shade of pink.

"…Your presence is…soothing to me," Harry admitted after a moment. "Maybe I can actually do it _this time_."

"No," Tonks said somewhat sternly, stepping into the room. Walking up to the floating boy, she grabbed one of his arms and pulled him, intentionally breaking his concentration and causing him to drop to the floor. Thankfully for his dignity, he'd managed to land on his feet without embarrassing himself. Though he still stumbled as Tonks had continued tugging at his arm, pulling him out of the room. "You've been cooped up in here for the past week. You need a break and I know _just the way_ to do that."

"And what's that?" Harry asked, finally regaining his balance as Tonks was now pushing and guiding him towards the cockpit.

"Once you park this floating tin car, you're taking me for a night out on the town," Tonks declared, growing her height somewhat so that she could suitably glare down at him and give a visual demonstration of his lack of choice in the matter.

"…Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Harry couldn't help asking before he was roughly pushed towards the pilot seat. "I mean, you're the one forcing me to do this."

"But it's customary for the man to treat the lady," Tonks stated.

"There's a lady here?" Harry asked, blinking in surprise and glancing back down the long hallway to try and find the lady in question. "Where? I don't sense her anywhere. Is she waiting for me back at MagiTech?"

Despite the mounting aggravation that Tonks felt at Harry all but openly saying that she wasn't a lady, an impish sneer pulled across her face as she adjusted her story. "In fact, she is. I set you up with a hot blind date, and you better be on your best behavior! I don't want to be made a fool of for setting all this up for you, Master Harry Potter sir."

"You've been talking to Dobby again," Harry drawled, somewhat annoyed as he began fiddling with the computer. Once taking the _Warlock_ off of the autopilot, he gently swung it to the side and guided it back towards London. With its invisibility shield, he had no worries of anyone seeing the flying vehicle as it came in for a landing on the factory's rooftop.

"How do you think I got aboard in the first place?" Tonks asked honestly. "He, among others, is getting worried about you. You haven't left this tin car since you flew off and you've rarely spoken to anyone but Sirius, Dudley, and his new girlfriend since then."

"Girlfriend?" Harry asked, surprised and glancing back at the pink-haired woman. "When did that happen?"

"Wartime passions, I'd guess," Tonks said, grinning. "And they're sharing their punishments of revealing the jetfighter prototypes, so they've had _lots_ of bonding time recently."

Chuckling despite himself, Harry nodded and refocused on his task of flying the _Warlock_. It was a surprisingly difficult job to keep the vehicle flying in a somewhat level fashion that required a relatively-alert pilot. He had his Sorcery awareness to guide him, which only helped to increase his already considerable respect of Ashley Felix. She'd been the pilot of the _Warlock_ when they'd left London and the ride had been incredibly smooth. He knew without a doubt that her natural flying talent _far_ exceeded even his own, which was already quite considerable before he's gained Sorcery. It was truly humbling for him to realize that she could likely _still_ outfly him.

"So, do you have any idea what this 'lady' has planned for this blind date of mine?" Harry asked as they came into sight of the Thames.

"Of course!" Tonks said, her smirk returning. "But I'm not telling you! This is a surprise and I'll not ruin it for her! You'll just have to wait, Mr. Punk-ass Sorcerer."

"Yippee," Harry deadpanned, rolling his eyes slightly. Still, that didn't stop the slight smile that spread across his face. Maybe he might just enjoy himself after all…

* * *

**#12 Grimmauld Place, London  
March 27, 1996**

With a flare of green light, the fireplace in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place spontaneously ignited into flames. From the burning green flames, an old body materialized and stepped out of the dusty, smoke-ridden crevice. With an idly flick of his wand, the figure caused all the dust and ash that clung to his body and robes to vanish as though it'd never existed before. Walking forward purposely, the old man stopped at the long table, setting a satchel atop it as he took a seat with an audible sigh of relief.

From behind him, the fireplace flared up once again as another body materialized. Stumbling out of the fireplace with loud thumping sounds due to his peg leg, the second man gruffly repeated the first's actions as he brushed his form free of the ash. "Well, that was an eventful trip."

"Indeed," the elderly first commented. "But it was most assuredly a…profitable one."

"Tsk, maybe for the Goblins it was," Moody grumbled irritable. He hated having to deal with the greedy, little, money-grubbing backstabbers almost as much as he did Dark Wizards. But, at the very least, he respected their fortifications and commitment to defending their gold and domain from thieves. If nothing else, they had a sliver of honor in that. Which was much more than he could say about many, _many_ of the Dark Wizards he'd put away over the years.

"No point in dawdling, Albus," Moody snapped after a moment to catch his breath. "Let's destroy these little nuisances and get it over with."

"Of course, Alastor," Dumbledore agreed, glancing at his long-time friend. While he could appreciate the man's directness in all things Dark-related, it could get trying at times. Such as his complete lack of any desire to observe the proper custom and ceremony when handling and ending such Darkness. Then again, Albus was old enough to acknowledge that that was his inner-Pureblood speaking.

Standing up, the former Headmaster walked over to a hidden compartment he'd built and sealed with powerful magic into the kitchen wall. Opening it revealed an ornately-crafted and highly sought-after blade, the Sword of Gryffindor. Taking the weapon, he couldn't help but once again marvel at how its hilt was able to perfectly match the grip of the wielder and its weight was next to nothing in his old hand. The Goblins who'd forged this sword had truly earned every Knut's worth of the gold that Godric had used to commission it.

Walking back to the kitchen table, Dumbledore saw that Alastor had already emptied the contents of the satchel on it. One was a golden cup with a badger on it, one was a diadem with fine jewels set in it, and the last was a simple looking ring with a triangular black stone. While each of the objects were different and somewhat random, they all had two defining features about them. One was that each of them had been previously owned by the Founders of Hogwarts, and the second was that a young man named Riddle had gotten his hands on them and desecrated the priceless treasures.

"I don't why we had to go to such lengths to gather these pointless knickknacks, Albus," Moody growled, glaring quite pointedly at him. "I know who they used to belong to, but what do they have to do with anything we've been trying to accomplish against Voldemort?"

"Trust me, my friend," Dumbledore said soothingly as he raised the sword. "They each are very important to our mission. They possess something about them that makes them some of the Darkest magic I've ever come across before. And they are very dearly important to Tom Riddle himself."

"I suppose that's reason enough to destroy them," Moody grumbled to himself. Though he was curious what Albus meant by them being so Dark, in the end maybe it was best if he didn't know. The fact that they were so important to Voldemort, enough for him to lay so many dangerous traps to protect them, was all the incentive that Moody needed to see them broken. Although, he did wish that Dumbledore would stop keeping such important secrets to himself, it got bloody annoying _really_ fast!

Three quick hits later, each of the objects had been shattered to pieces. Though he wasn't sure, Moody could've sworn he'd heard a high-pitched death shriek from each of the objects. Regardless of what he may or may not have heard, there was an almost blinding flash of green light that burst out of them when the Sword of Gryffindor struck.

After a moment, Albus let out a long sigh of relief. '_Only two more to go,_' he thought with relief and a heavy heart. He knew from Severus that Riddle had recently come into possession of a powerful new snake familiar that he kept very close to his person. Albus had no doubt that the snake had been made into a Horcrux, one that he clearly made as a failsafe in case all of the others were destroyed and would keep safe at all costs for his own life. And the last Horcux was sadly Harry Potter himself. It pained him, but he knew there was no other way around it. The boy would likely have to die in order to ensure Voldemort's final death. And it was a terrible secret that Albus was very reluctant to share with the boy, even more so nowadays with all the trouble that the Ministry was giving him and his friends. He wanted Harry's last days to be ones of happiness.

"Now that that's done with, there's something we need to talk about, Albus," Moody said, sweeping his wand and sending the newfound trash on the tabletop straight into the nearby waste basket.

"And what's that?" Albus asked, staring after the sad remains of the Founders' precious artifacts with obvious remorse.

"Potter!"

"We have discussed this before, Alastor," Albus said, turning back to the man. "Many times already, and I tire of having to repeat the argument."

"That's beside the point," Alastor said, glaring slightly more deeply. _Why_ couldn't the withered old fool get it through his head that the Potter boy was a loose wand with a temper problem? That combination _always_ led to tragedy and destruction to a massive degree! And that wasn't even _mentioning_ the fact that he was practicing such a deadly Dark Art as Sorcery! "I've been hearing some very disgruntling rumors from the Muggle World recently. It would seem that Potter has been busy since he left here."

"Rumors like what?" Albus asked, honestly curious. While he never usually intended it, Harry certainly had a habit of getting caught up in schemes and situations of a much grander scale than most children or men twice his age usually ever experience. So, what had the boy gotten himself stuck in this time? Hopefully nothing too dangerous. Albus really didn't want to risk stretching his luck with the Statute of Secrecy, especially with how Fudge has been looking for _any_ reason to see him thrown into Azkaban recently.

"Aside from the fact that he's gotten the bloody Werewolf Packs organized into actual fighting force that could strike out any and all innocents they want to now?" Moody asked derisively. "I've heard that he's purchased a rundown Muggle building in London. That his minions have developing some new magical weapons, spells, and potions that we've no defense against. That they've been sending scouts out into other countries, like France, Scandinavia, all over Europe, and even bloody _America_, looking for more recruits from the foreign Werewolf Packs! Plus there's the fact that he's been gaining a lot of gold recently with no apparent source!"

"Oh?" Albus asked, a fair bit more curious at the mention of gold. "And how do you know about his finances? The Goblins usually don't share such information."

"I have my ways," Moody growled, somewhat relishing the fact that he could keep certain secrets from Albus for a change. "But it's a _lot_ of gold. We're talking enough gold to make all the vaults of _all_ the Old Families look like pocket change in comparison."

"That is…curious and alarming," Albus admitted. How could the boy possibly gain such wealth in just a few months' time? It shouldn't have been possible, even with magic! The classical reasoning would've been the boy had gone rogue and gotten involved in some _very_ Dark business. But Alastor had said that these rumors had originated from the Muggle World. What could the boy be doing there to have gotten such wealth and so quickly? Albus knew that the exchange value difference from British pounds to Galleons was considerable. So for the boy to have gotten so much wealth to have made the Old Families' vaults pale in comparison…

"I'll look into this as soon as possible," Albus promised Alastor.

"But that's not even the most alarming thing I've heard recently," Alastor said, his glare strong and steady. He hadn't brought up this particular rumor because he knew that it would hold the most impact on his friend. And, as the former Supreme Mugwump, it would most assuredly guarantee he'd investigate. But Moody had wanted to pique his interest with the mention of the gold, which was something that had even himself stumped.

"I've heard that Muggles have learned how to make _flying cars_—" he quite relished to alarmed look that flashed across Albus's face at that nugget. "like Weasley's old car from a few years ago. Think there's a _connection_…?" From the way he'd drawled out the question, it was painfully obvious to Albus just what his opinion really was.

"I'll check up on Harry immediately."

Of that, there was no question.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Duh-duh-duh! Dumbledore's coming snooping! Not good! The sparks are really fly come next chapter!

Sorry for the wait. I really had wanted to post this chapter a week ago, but obviously that didn't pan out. Kudos to anyone can guess where the first scene was inspired from, which probably isn't too hard. I really loved that scene, hence why it's here.

As you can see, even Harry's 'all-powerful Sorcery' is having trouble raising an island from the North Sea. While it's definitely within the realm of his powers to do so, let's just say that he hasn't discovered the _secret_ to just how he can do that. And before any of you skeptics start yelling, Harry's island raising is a feat he's trying to imitate from Merlin (who'd created Avalon in this story).


	16. Clash of Ideals

**The Lightsaber  
**By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#16: Clash of Ideals_

**MagiTech Industries Factory, London  
April 1, 1996**

As Remus walked in, he managed to catch Sirius hanging up the telephone on his desk with a deeply satisfied smile on his face. Seeing his longtime friend's arrival and obvious curiosity, the Black preempted his question by saying, "I just finished a deal to purchase a new building for MagiTech. We can move both the store and factory into it after we renovate it. Our current buildings are too small for all our customers."

"Oh?" Remus said, somewhat surprised. "Where is it? Which building? How much?"

"Some tower called Centre Point on New Oxford Street," Sirius answered easily, not even blinking as Remus seemed to flinch in surprised recognition. "The owner wanted like 90 million pounds, but we settled on 65 instead. I think I'm gonna rename Centre Point to Tech Tower."

"No, that'd be a bad idea," Remus quickly butted in. "It's a very well-known building with a lot of history behind it. Renaming it might cause a bit of public backlash, at least for the time being."

"Hm…fair enough," Sirius said, shrugging carelessly. It had only been a whimsical idea he'd had, but maybe something to consider later on. Turning back to his friend, he said, "How did the UN weapons demonstration go?"

"The new factories are a go," Remus said, completely foregoing answering the original question since he knew that _this_ question was what the business owner was most anxious to hear about. "And I've managed to bring in more than two and a half thousand Werewolves of those countries _officially_ to learn the secrets of our tech."

"That's great news!" Sirius said, beaming widely as he glanced up from his paperwork. "So, which factories are we talking about?"

"Two in the US, one for Germany, one in Romania, and one in Japan," Remus answered quickly, smiling slightly as well. Since he had lived a fair portion of his life in the Muggle World, he knew just what kind of success they needed in order for their factories to spread out across the planet like this. And he still couldn't believe the resounding success of MagiTech was due to the unconventional and illegal combination of magic and technology. Still, it was pretty understandable since most Wizards felt themselves far too above the Muggles to dabble in such experiments.

"Where's Harry?" Remus asked, glancing towards the one-way mirror. "Still floating over the North Sea or is he finally doing something constructive with his power now? I've got almost 3,000 Werewolves who need the infamous Cleanser's help."

"Eh, send them to one of the Lycans, I'm sure they'll be happy to help," Sirius said, waving his hand somewhat dismissively.

The first time that a cleansed Lycan had come across a common Werewolf, during the early days of MagiTech's recruitment, it had come as an unbridled shock for all involved to learn that the cleansed Lycans could now imitate Harry. Somehow, through the act of cleansing the Werewolf Curse, the newly-formed Lycan also gained the ability to cleanse others who were still afflicted. In many ways, it was the same but inverse effect of passing on the Werewolf Curse through a bite. This discovery had helped to hasten the cleansing of Werewolf Packs all over the world, just by planting a few Lycans in them, the act would rapidly spread through the Packs like a virus. As a side-effect, this also caused many of the Packs to become new employees of MagiTech, and now they'd be working in factories and stores a bit closer to their homes.

"As for Harry, I really don't know, to be honest. He just up and vanished this morning and I haven't had a chance to look for him. You wouldn't believe the amount of paperwork that's needed to get our Pixel Project and the Cyberathlete Professional League started."

"Perhaps," Remus allowed. "But some of the Werewolves really wanted to meet with him personally."

Sirius just shrugged in response as he finally set the last of his paperwork into a folder and flicked his wand, sending it on its way. "So, which of the products were the militaries most interested in purchasing?"

Taking a seat in one of the chairs to the side, Remus pulled out a checklist and began reading off of it. "The handheld blasters, ray-shields, bulletproof body armor, weaponized hoverboards, destroyer-class navy ship plasma cannons, improved armored troop transports and tanks, improved computers and communication systems, computer tablets, and so on. Basically, everything that can kill or maim or help them to better kill or maim each other is what they want."

"How predictable, and kind of sad," Sirius commented, shaking his head in disgust. "They may be somewhat more advanced, but they're still as backwards as Wizards pretend not to be."

"And they want the first shipments within a month's time," Remus said, shaking his head as well. "You'd think we were on the brink of a new world war with how much and how quickly they want all this stuff."

"Still, a month's time isn't too bad to get some headway on those orders," Sirius said, looking thoughtful. "And once the new factories are up and running, we can start regulating who builds what more easily."

After a moment of silence, Remus finally asked, "Are you sure this was a good idea?" Seeing Sirius's questioning look, he clarified, "Starting up MagiTech and selling to the world. I'm not saying it hasn't done some truly wondrous things and we can actually use our new influence to make a better world as a whole. But was it wise to not try to get Dumbledore's approval, or at least let him know what we're planning on doing? Even with what Fudge has been doing these last few months, Dumbledore still holds a lot of influence in the Wizarding World."

"True," Sirius said, nodding in agreement. "But his word could've made or broke MagiTech. While we may not be using magic in an overt sense, we technically still _are_ breaking the Statute."

"And as the former Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation, he knows all-too-well the scriptures of the Statute," Remus pointed out. "He could very easily go to the ICW and cause us a lot of trouble, even if he's been booted out of the office."

"But we're much more established now," Sirius said, grinning. "Whether they know it or not, MagiTech is about to become the cornerstone of their lives. To just take that away now, with no true plausible explanation for just how we managed to create our tech, wouldn't go over well with the Muggles. It would cause great chaos and instill a _lot_ of bad blood between the various Wizarding and Muggle governments, especially if some of the smarter ones were able to figure out that magic was involved."

"I guess I understand why we did it this way," Remus admitted, though he clearly still didn't like it. "Dumbledore could've put a halt to this whole operation before we even finished our first prototype. So we had to keep him in the dark…but what about now? With MagiTech becoming more widespread, the likelihood of him or one of the other Ministries figuring it out only grows stronger."

"Honestly? I'm _hoping_ they figure it out now," Sirius stated, looking at Remus's inquiring gaze with a level one. "If they figure it out and try to shut us down, it will quickly get noticed by certain other higher-ups of a more _pure_ lineage. And, even if _they_ don't, the press will make a very big deal out of it for sure."

Remus couldn't help but flinch bodily as the implications dawned on him. "You're planning on using MagiTech as _bait_ to draw out You-Know-Who!"

"Exactly," Sirius said. "We cannot move forward into the future as long as we have his shadow hanging over our heads like a guillotine blade. The only way for this end favorably for us is if You-Know-Who dies, and soon. If he doesn't, you know he's gonna fan the flames of the Purebloods and they'll destroy everything we're trying to build with MagiTech."

"…Do you think Harry's ready for this fight?" Remus asked, looking at Sirius critically. "It's obvious to me that You-Know-Who is going to focus all of his time and effort on killing the one person who has and does stand up to him on a regular basis."

"Harry's been ready for that fight since _before_ he left Hogwarts," Sirius said confidently. And he had reason to believe such a claim.

Sirius would often join Harry in rigorous training sessions, especially since he started training Dobby how to fight with his mini-lightsaber. The little bugger had taken to calling the mini-lightsaber a 'shoto' for some reason that Sirius didn't understand. Anyway, the young Sorcerer boy's style had been evolving into something both mesmerizing to watch, chaotic to fight, and unpredictable to counter. Plus, with all the new magic he's been learning from his father's crystal ball, he was never without a surprise or two waiting up his sleeve. Sirius was honestly looking forward to Harry's inevitable fight with Voldemort with great anticipation.

Smirking at the memory of his last little spar with his beloved godson, Sirius nodded decisively. "You-Know-Who doesn't stand a chance."

Before Remus could respond to Sirius's bold claim, someone rushed up to the office door and started knocking on it loudly and insistently. Waving in the frantic-looking employee, Sirius said, "What's the problem?"

"Just received word…from the store!" the man said, panting slightly from the run he'd just made to reach the office quickly. "There's a…_Wizard_ in the store! ...Charisa said it was…_Dumbledore!_"

At that exclamation, both Sirius and Remus rushed into the hidden room behind his office. They each grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and were rapidly transported to the store's fireplace. After cleaning themselves of the dust and ash, they turned and made for the door.

"Let's hope your gamble works as you want it to," Remus couldn't help muttering as he and Sirius quickly and easily spotted the weirdly-dressed old man that stood in the middle of the crowded store. Just by the look on the old man's face, Remus could tell that the ensuing conversation was _not_ going to go well.

* * *

**Forbidden Forest  
Same time…**

Over the past month and a half, Harry found himself growing a bit more popular among the Centaur herd. Granted, things hadn't started out very well. The Centaurs as a whole didn't welcome the young rogue Wizard and Sorcerer into their company willingly. Sure, they had helped him purge himself of his Dark taint, but they viewed that more as an act of necessity at the commands of their superiors than out of true loyalty. But in return for their help, Harry had happily shared many of his newest and most important secrets with them.

The Centaurs had all taken to creating their own crystals, following Harry's instructions, and were all properly surprised and impressed by what they'd made. It seemed that the Centaur crystals functioned much the same way as Tonks had discovered. Thus the mystics of the herd had found that they could use their crystals as focuses and amplifiers for their own brand of magic in much the same way as a wand for a Witch and Wizard. The crystals may have forced them to revisit their training and to constantly practice their magic with them, in order to learn how to control the precious gems. But the more serene of the mystics claimed it just helped reinforce to them the need to never grow stagnate in one's skill. Many of the Centaurs had even taken to carrying staves that had their crystals embedded in them, or even weaving the crystals into pieces of jewelry like necklaces or earrings or rings. Thus the crystals were quickly becoming a very popular fashion among the herd, even those who were neither warriors nor mystics.

In fact, Harry came across a very interesting discovery about the crystals thanks to the Centaurs. Apparently, there was a certain pattern to which the colors of the crystals were chosen. In the case of the more confrontational, aggressive, or practical-minded, the creators of the crystal got blue. They were the fighters, in spirit if not in body. But if the crystal's creator was more open-minded, diplomatic, and patient, then they got green. As such, many of the mystics got green crystals while the warriors got blue crystals. Though that's not to say that there wasn't a slight mixture of the colors.

The warriors had been forced to sit patiently through long sessions of 'schooling' as Harry explained to them to basics of Muggle technology. Many of those warriors were quite uncomfortable and vocal, even times rather aggressive, at learning such foreign concepts as electricity and how to tie in special Charms and runes to make their weapons. They viewed the need to learn such knowledge as unnecessary since the 'arcane arts' were better suited to the mystics. Bane himself had had to come forward numerous times to break up a potential confrontation between the warriors and Harry. Eventually, with overwhelming reluctance on the Centaurs' part, they were able to understand the necessity of knowing such knowledge.

That was when Harry started teaching them how to build the weapon. He showed them the basic mechanics behind the construction and he supplied them the tools and parts necessary, but he didn't build the weapons for them himself. There was a tremendous amount of grumbling and complaints involved, even from Bane, which _really_ tried Harry's patience. And yet, when that first blade was ignited for the first time, all complaints and mounting anger practically vanished as the lucky maker marveled over his craftsmanship and his companions were awed by the beautiful blade. It actually jumpstarted the Centaurs' competitive natures and desire to have their own weapons.

That was more than two weeks ago and things were now settling into a much more comfortable routine for the warriors as they practiced and trained with their new lightpikes. At first, Harry had been unsure about the wisdom of the Centaurs using their very own crafted iron as the shafts of the pikes. But he had been reassured by both Remus and Sirius and the Centaur blacksmiths that 'Centaur iron' was uniquely forged with magic that the makers kept as closely guarded secrets. This unique iron was said to be incredibly strong, even on par with Goblin-forged steel. Thus Harry was quite happy and surprised to see that their iron was actually strong enough to block and deflect lightsaber blades with next to no damage inflicted. The Centaurs didn't usually wear armor, but all of it was composed of their iron.

And that was what had Harry was so impressed with what he was seeing before him take place. It was a training session that he was watching over at Bane's invitation. The warriors were practicing with their weapons, learning to properly wield their new and much more deadly weapons. Harry found that the Centaurs approached combat, especially close-quarters combat, much differently than how a human would. They took full advantage of their unique body structure, always running, always moving, always taking slashes and fleeing quickly. In some ways, they reminded him of how the horse-archers of the Mongols used to fight in that regard. But when they were forced to a halt and had to fight hand to hand, they fought more like staff-wielding Shaolin monks, occasionally rearing up to use their front legs to pummel their opponents torso and arms. It was a surprisingly mesmerizing display.

"Your warriors have adapted to the lightpikes with surprising ease, Bane," Harry admitted with a touch of jealousy. It was an irrational jealousy since he knew that he was no near as skilled with his lightsaber as they were with their spears and pikes. But it was a still a sting to his pride, momentarily. "I'm impressed."

The boy Sorcerer was dressed in a heavy jeans and a light, brown wool jacket with the hood up, shielding him from the rain. On his back, a strange crossbow-like contraption was hanging by a belt over his shoulder. It was clear by the size that it was not designed for use by the boy, it was much too large. His wand was holstered and his lightsaber dangling from his belt at his side. He also wore a satchel at his side, bugling slightly from the contents hidden within.

"These weapons are remarkably similar to our own spears," Bane said simply. "It isn't that surprising, Potter." Looking off to the side, he said, "Those…blasters you've given us are much harder to adjust to."

Looking to where the larger male was gazing, Harry felt his stinging pride be soothed slightly. There was a long line of Centaurs standing before a row of targets just fifty meters away. Nearly all of the Centaurs using the blasters were either missing the targets completely or just barely hitting the outer edges. There was a distinct difference between firing an arrow from a bow and shooting a gun. To fire an arrow required a special hand-eye coordination and being able to predict the flight path and speed of the arrow once released to hit the target where they desired it. They needed to 'feel' the shot before they could fire it. To shoot a gun, one just needed to sight down the barrel, control one's breathing, estimate the trajectory of the bullet, and then squeeze the trigger. There was generally no _special_ feeling involved, which is why and how Muggle soldiers could spray out hundreds of rounds a minute without batting an eye. And this was something that none of the Centaurs had trained since birth to do, so all of them were starting from scratch.

"Well, maybe you'll be able to better adjust to this new weapon we've developed recently," Harry said, mustering up a smile for Bane as the Centaur turned to look at him. Sliding the crossbow off his shoulder, Harry held it up to Bane to take.

Grabbing the strange weapon, Bane looked it over critically. Now somewhat familiar with blasters and guns, the Centaur leader was able to quickly realize that this weapon wasn't loaded. There was a very distinct opening underneath it, just in front of the trigger, and a pair of brackets that were clearly intended to hold the ammo cartridge. "A crossbow…blaster?" he guessed, uncertainly.

"I prefer to call it a 'bowcaster,'" Harry said, smiling somewhat sheepish at Bane's raised brow in response. "But, yes. I designed it to add a bit more familiarity for you. It shoots a lot slower than the blasters, but the shots are much more powerful and dangerous." Reaching into his satchel, he held up a cylindrical with a bright blue plasma glowing from within. It was roughly the size of a 2-liter cola bottle with the same general shape. Handing it up to Bane, Harry watched as the Centaur examined the weapon before carefully slipping the cylinder into its place.

"This reminds me," Bane said, lowering the weapon and reaching into the bag he was also wearing. Pulling out something dark metallic, he handed it over to Harry. "A little gift from our blacksmiths. It should provide you with a bit of protection from enchanted blades."

Taking the gift, Harry soon recognized it as being a pauldron. A smile spread across his face as he carefully unbuckled some of the straps and slid it over his head, resting it on his right shoulder and quickly strapping it into place. Lifting his arm carefully, he smiled a bit wider as he watched the curiously-light plate armor shift and adjust with his movement, not hampering his range of motion in the least. Returning Bane's gaze, he said, "Thank you, my friend. I'm sure this'll come in handy." Bane just nodded in response.

Walking over to the firing range, Bane nudged aside one of the shooters and took his place. Cocking the bowstring, which filled the firing chamber with plasma, and sliding the safety off, he aimed downrange and fired. The little '_pops'_ of the blasters were easily drowned out by the substantial '_bang!'_ of the bowcaster, freezing all activity in the practice field momentarily. But Harry and Bane's attentions weren't on that. They were both staring with blinking surprise at the outcome of Bane's shot. The shot itself must've been five times as large as those from the blasters and quite a bit more powerful. Not only did the Centaur leader hit his target dead center, but the blast utterly blew the circular target and its stand completely apart, as though it'd been struck by a small missile.

Turning back to Harry with a slight grin on his face, Bane said, "I think these will suffice."

Taking his satchel off and handing it over to the Centaur, Harry chuckled in response. "Have fun, Bane."

* * *

**Breakroom, MagiTech Store, Newham Borough **

His first clue to the use of magic was the numerous strange devices that he saw the Muggles using out on the streets. He had been walking down the street towards where he'd learned was the building that Sirius and Remus had purchased and put into use, under a protective Notice-Me-Not Charm. And as he drew closer to the building in question, the more overt the magical devices became.

Many of the children and teenagers were riding on boards that had no wheels but were clearly floating in the air, most were floating along the sides of the street between the parked cars and road itself since the sidewalks were so cramped with people. Through windows of other shops and homes, he could see other children were wearing magical gloves as they played with glowing cubes, manipulating and changing the cubes sizes, breaking them into smaller cubes and using them as building blocks to create various things, all the while the colors of the glow changed each time. Some of the passersby were tinkering with flat screens the size and shapes of notebooks, playing games or exploring the various programs on the screens. And yet others were talking to strange devices they wore on their wrists that were like watches, but carried small, blue figures over them.

It was in a slight daze of horror and disbelief that caused the elderly old man stumbled into and gazed around the building he was in, not noticing his Charm had dropped with his concentration so shot. Everywhere around him, he could faintly detect traces and considerable concentrations of magic alighting the air. Most Wizards and Witches rarely, if ever, manifested the awareness of detecting the auras of magic around themselves. It took a certain high level of experience, power, and sensitivity to even be able to attempt the delicate art. In several ways, it was a heavily toned down version of the fabled awareness that Sorcerers were blessed with, just with a much, much smaller range.

Dumbledore's bubble of awareness was remarkably large for a Wizard, able to sense magic up to five meters around his person. And almost everywhere he looked, in every device and contraption on the store shelves or under the counters, he could pick up a small but noticeable trace of magic. The magic was both familiar and foreign to him. He could identify several Charms and Jinxes just by the flux of the magic. But what was confusing him was that the magic had some very peculiar differences.

In a word, it was erratic: highly charged and with considerable power, but also tightly controlled and directed. It was very different and almost vexing to the old Wizard as he struggled to understand just how it could be possible. Magic was a highly-potent energy source that had many, many factors that could be attributed to how it was used and handled. But because of all these factors and differences, there was only ever one consistent fact about all magic. That being it was nearly uncontrollable in its natural state, with Wizards and Witches only able to vaguely shape and aim the magic through their wands and wills to utilize it. Thus, how could any of the magic he was feeling around him be so incredibly controlled?! It was both highly-intriguing and more than a little disturbing for the venerable elder.

It wasn't until a pair of familiar men appeared next to him and guided him into a lounge area for employees that Dumbledore was able to finally start regaining some semblance of self-awareness and realize that he was standing undisguised in a crowd of Muggles. Muggles who were shopping in a store that sold magical items to them!

"I assume there's a _**very good**_ explanation for all this," Dumbledore more or less growled out in a quiet rage as he glanced heatedly between Sirius and Remus. Though Sirius snorted somewhat derisively with a familiar unrepentant look on his face, Remus seemed both nervous and scared.

"Well, obviously, I am running a business," Sirius snarked.

"You are selling _magical items_ to _Muggles!_" Dumbledore barked, his temper starting to take control in a rare but powerful burst of anger. "That is one of the _highest_ laws of the Statute of Secrecy! You're _provoking_ the Muggles into _asking questions_ that have no answer but the _obvious truth_ of the _existence of magic!_ You're putting _everyone_ in the _entire_ Wizarding World in _jeopardy!_"

"Are we?" Sirius demanded, leaning forward ever-so-slightly as his glare matched Dumbledore's. "Are we _really_ putting the Wizarding World in danger?! From what I see out there, the Muggles _see_ and _believe_ that what they are buying and using is a massive jump in _technology_ and _science!_ While they may not _understand_ it yet, they will find ways of identifying what we're doing within a logical, _scientific_ perspective! That's how Muggles _think!_ We have done _nothing_ to advertise the existence of the Wizarding World _at all_ since we've started all this!"

"Muggles are known for being simple-minded with strong superstitious tendencies!" Dumbledore said, his voice low and firm as his eyes narrowed dangerously, all twinkles and sparkles of good-nature long since vanished. "They will find out what is really going on. And they will react badly, as they have always done whenever they find something magical in nature. It is how and who they have always been! Our ancestors were not fools, Sirius. They knew what they were doing when they made the Statute of Secrecy!"

"Times change, as do people," Sirius pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood taller, raising his chin defiantly. "You have never spent any extensive time with the Muggles. You have not seen just what they are now capable of and how openly accepting they are of exciting new changes and discoveries. They've found ways to mimic and even surpass us Wizards in many ways. Look at the Floo and telephones! Wizards can talk to the others through the Floo's fire powder, but only if they're connected to the network and within a very limited range of distance. Muggles can make calls with their telephones from London to Rome to Boston to Beijing! Can we Wizards do that? Times have changed, and so should we, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore stared at Sirius in the eye for a long moment, strongly tempted to cast a silent Legilimency spell on him to see what the man's thoughts were. But he restrained that impulse with a great deal of self-control. While the man's flagging mental defenses were all but nonexistent from his time in Azkaban, it wouldn't do to start treating his allies as enemies. That was the first step to fracturing and destroying their alliance to bring down Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters. And with how aggressively the Ministry and Fudge have been pursuing all leads and trails of his and Harry's whereabouts, the Order of the Phoenix needed strong unity to survive this trying time. Speaking of which…

"Perhaps it's time for you to return Harry back to Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore said, feeling a bit of uncharacteristic dark satisfaction when Sirius and even Remus recoiled slightly in obvious and pained surprise. But that satisfaction was instantly squashed down when the younger men's eyes narrowed and both their stances quickly became a bit more relaxed, obvious signs that they were preparing for an actual fight. From the corner of his eye, Dumbledore could glimpse the fact that every other occupant of the lunchroom had also turned their attentions towards the trio with unabashed interest, some openly glaring at him. Undeterred, he continued, "It seems clear to me that having him under such reckless influences like this will be detrimental to his development as a responsible young adult of the _Wizarding_ World."

"We are not being reckless or foolish, Dumbledore," Remus said in a surprisingly level tone, though the look in his eye was anything but calm. "What we are ultimately working towards is a true cohabitation of Wizards and Muggles. Our new magical technology is opening up incredible new doors and opportunities for both sides, if we can handle them right. Isn't this the true goal of the Order? Ending segregation and bias for Pureblooded families, and allowing the growth of new ideas and discoveries?"

"I say again: _there is a valid reason for the Statue of Secrecy_," Dumbledore reiterated pointedly. "And I will not repeat what has already been said on the matter."

"Then you had better get accustomed to the idea of MagiTech Industries," Sirius said in a similar tone to Remus's. "Like it or not, we have and _will_ be the bridge between the two worlds. We will ensure that the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds are _united_ into one people once again. We have spent _far_ too much time hiding in the dark, fearing our own shadows and the past deeds of our and their ancestors being repeated."

"I agree with Mr. Black and Lupin," one of the employees called out, drawing everyone's attention to him. "What we're doing here might seem bad right now, but we are working for a higher goal than just making a load of gold and getting some honest-to-goodness work!"

"It's like what Potter once told me," another employee spoke up from the other side of the room. "'To fear the possibilities is to fear life itself.' We are blazing a new path and we know that we're doing the right thing. If you try to stop us, we _will_ fight back. Even against _you_, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore glanced around the room, eyeing each of the employees individually. Though he wasn't entirely sure, he suddenly had a very strong suspicion that all of them were Werewolves. '_Gathering and building an army of Werewolves and like-minded Wizards, conducting illegal research and experimentation in magic and Muggle technology, selling magical items to Muggles…and probably also making secret weapons under the surface…Maybe Alastor is __**right**__. Maybe young Harry really __**is**__ starting to fall to the temptations of Sorcery and the Darkness it brings._'

"I see," Dumbledore said. Turning his attention back to Sirius, his gaze was focused and stern. "It is clear to me that you will not be swayed from this foolish endeavor."

"And you obviously won't try to see the good we've done for the Muggles already," Sirius shot back unrepentantly.

"I will not help you when Inquisitors come to shut this business down," Dumbledore said in a very serious voice. "If they haven't already, they will soon discover what you're doing here and the consequences will be dire."

"Let them come," Sirius said in an equally serious voice. "We will deal with them just fine, one way or the other."

Dumbledore merely nodded before teleporting away. Looking at the others in the lunchroom, Sirius said, "Spread the word. We are now entering Code Yellow. If Dumbledore's finally found us, the Inquisitors won't be far behind."

"Yes, sir!" the twenty onlookers answered quickly, their faces equally serious at the implications of what was to inevitably come.

* * *

**Brockwell Park, London  
April 3, 1996**

"You know, when you said you wanted to take me for a night out, this was probably the last place I'd have guessed," Harry said in a slight deadpan voice, glancing around the darkened park. Although it was technically open all day and night, the Brockwell Hall had closed an hour earlier and nearly all other visitors had already left. Dressed in his usual jeans and a dark red jacket, Harry was quite comfortable in the slight chill of the early spring air. Over his shoulder, as had become commonplace lately, was his Centaur-iron pauldron with the MagiTech logo painted on the uppermost shoulder plate.

"Oh?" Tonks said, a teasing grin pulling at her face. "What were you expecting? An expensive dinner after some fun at the cinema, followed by a steamy night in a hotel room?" Even with the darkness of night enshrouding him, the bright blush that filled Harry's face at Tonks' insinuation was more than prominently noticeable.

It was a strange thing caused by strange circumstances, but Harry was finding himself more and more thinking about and noticing Tonks in recent weeks. He longed for her soothing but energetic presence when she wasn't nearby, he enjoyed her teasing nature and strong personality. And he felt…stronger and happier whenever she'd compliment him on an accomplishment he'd made, no matter how trivial it might've been. The fact that she was putting a great deal of risk into associating with him, MagiTech, and the Lycans on a pretty frequent basis only deepened his sense of commitment of helping to prove to her that she was not mistaken in placing her trust in him.

Still, his rising attraction and need for her didn't stop him from letting her poke fun at him with impunity. Which is why he quickly replied in another deadpan statement, "No, I was expecting you to take me to the next WWF show before ditching me with the bill…_again_."

"Hey, that's a _great_ idea!" Tonks chirped as her face and hair practically lit up with joy, actually excited at the idea she hadn't yet considered. "Maybe next time, eh?"

Harry just gave her another deadpan stare, before shaking his head and chuckling quietly to himself. Truth be told, he didn't mind her shenanigans and the pricy bills she forced on him. He'd never been short on funds since finding his heritage, and Sirius gave him a hefty allowance of 500 thousand pounds a month nowadays thanks to MagiTech's success. And that wasn't even counting his bills for his actual work with MagiTech, as sparing as it was.

"That aside, what was it you wanted to do here tonight?" Harry asked, glancing around the empty park again. They stood out in the grassy open where children and teenagers would usually play small matches of football, or any other sport that came to mind.

"Honestly, I just wanted to enjoy the starry night sky with a friend again," Tonks said in a surprising mellow tone, her gaze skyward and wistful. Seeing her melancholy expression, Harry drew his wand and silently conjured up a simple wooden bench behind them. Once done, he guided his elder friend down onto it without a word.

"You like to stargaze?" Harry asked, quite surprised despite himself.

Tonks nodded. "It was something I used to do all the time with my father when I was younger. We'd sit under the stars on clear nights like this, connecting the constellations and he'd tell me stories and fairy tales he'd heard or made up… I loved those nights more than anything, especially because they were so rare."

"Rare?" Harry asked, glancing down from the sky and at his friend again. "Why would they be? I'd think that you'd be able to have done that whenever you wanted to."

"But you forget, Harry," Tonks said, glancing over at him with a small frown. "This was before You-Know-Who was miraculously vanquished the first time."

Now he felt like hitting himself, hard. Tonks was seven years older than him. Her childhood years were likely spent cowering in fear for her life, and the lives of her parents, from the murderous whims of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. And since Death Eaters especially enjoyed hunting at night, it must've been a really rare treat for her and her parents to sit under the stars and enjoy the twinkling lights back then. "I see…I'm sorry to bring it up."

"Don't be," Tonks said, waving his apology aside carelessly. "Everything eventually turned out alright."

After a few moments of silence, Harry suddenly gave a small grin at a bizarre thought that crossed his mind. "You must've really enjoyed Astronomy back in Hogwarts."

"One of my most favorite classes ever!" Tonks chirped happily. "Even more than pulling pranks on my stalkers in the halls and helping the Twins learn how to pull pranks."

"Stalkers? Twins? You mean Fred and George?" Harry asked, his mind suddenly whirling at the new information. "You helped Fred and George become the pranksters they are now?"

"Oh, I did no such thing!" Tonks denied, despite the proud grin she wore. "I just showed them the ropes. They did the rest by themselves."

"Okay, but what's this about stalkers?"

"Teenage boys with out of control _hormones_ learning that they've got a lady _Metamorphmagus_ their same _general_ age close by? What do you _think_ they wanted?" There was a definite note of dark anger and a hint of equally dark satisfaction in her tone. "I probably had a _lot_ more fun with those wankers than I should've, but it was absolutely worth it!"

Despite himself, Harry couldn't help the slightly dark reply he quietly uttered in response, "Wish I could've been there to help you."

Pinching his cheek, Tonks grinned over at him as he shot an unhappy glare at her abuse. "That's sweet, hero, but I handled them just fine."

Prying her fingers off his cheek, he rubbed his aching flesh as he muttered, "Don't call me that. I haven't done anything to earn it."

"I beg to differ, but okay," Tonks said dismissively. "I suppose you _are_ still a little too much of a child. A real hero would've taken his title, and his reward, without much complaint."

"Have I mentioned all the heroic deeds I've done in the recent months and years?" Harry asked, grinning crookedly over at her.

Tonks laughed lightly in response for a moment. Then she surprised him by leaning down and planting a soft but wet kiss on his cheek. By the time she'd pulled away, Harry's face was already burning hotly once again. Rather than embarrass him once again, Tonks just leaned back into the bench, slouching slightly into his side as they turned their gazes skyward again. It was a quiet, happy, and peaceful moment that Harry found himself greatly enjoying and wishing could continue on forever thereafter.

But the sudden dark presence he sensed appearing in the park less than a hundred meters away ended his rare moment of peace and serenity. Harry immediately sprung to his feet, ignoring Tonks grunt of surprise as he turned to face his dark tormentor. Snatching his wand in one hand and deactivated lightsaber in the other, he leapt between Tonks and the dark figure that was moving towards them. "I was wondering when you were going to find me again."

"You are surprisingly difficult to find for a child," the armored man called back in a loud growling tone, anger obvious in his voice. "I will enjoy killing you…_immensely_."

"Tonks, stay behind me and don't get involved," Harry said, very seriously and keeping his enemy in his eyes. "This one is a Sorcerer too. And a very dangerous one. You won't last very long against him."

"Well," Tonks said in an equally serious voice as she vanished the bench and entered an aggressive spellcasting stance. "I guess we'll just have to work together. I'm not letting you face this guy alone."

A smile small flickered across Harry's face before he hardened his resolve and prepared for the fight that was to come.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) You know, when I started writing this, I hadn't realized just how appropriate the chapter title really was. Now, looking back on it, I can't help but grin! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. And I can promise that the next chapter is going to see some much needed badass fighting as we _**FINALLY** _get a glimpse of just what the Hunter is _really_ capable of.

For those who are curious, I'm modeling the new bowcasters after the machine-gun crossbow used in the 2004 _Van Helsing_ movie. Who _doesn't_ love that weapon? It's just too awesome not to use. Anyway, you can find a picture of the Centaur-iron pauldrons at **SteamViking**'s DeviantART: Celtic Pauldrons.

Centaur-iron is a lot like Goblin-steel in that it's specially crafted and the secrets of its forging are religiously protected by the blacksmiths and their apprentices to prevent Wizards and Witches and any other magical being from copying and stealing their techniques. Unlike Goblin-steel that can absorb magic and powers to strength itself, Centaur-iron can reflect most forms of magic, especially those that are used to increase a weapon's power. As you can imagine, their iron is even more valued and expensive than anything the Goblins could create because the Centaurs make it a habit of _not_ doing business with most other magicals.


	17. Battle and Aftermath

**The Lightsaber**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#17: Battle and Aftermath_

**Brockwell Park, London  
April 3, 1996**

Thrusting his wand forward, Harry cast a chain of Blasting, Disarming, and Stunning Curses in quick succession. Tonks was right there next to him, sending her own curses over at their enemy. But to their shared annoyance, their black-clothed adversary deflected or absorbed all of the spells on a shield. After only a moment of this, the trio quickly switched roles with the hunter raising his free arm and blasting a wide swath of pure lightning at Harry and Tonks.

Igniting his lightsaber and holding it before himself, Harry caught the lightning on his blade and protected himself. Tonks wasn't so fortunate, caught unawares and sent flying backwards with a cry of pain as pure agony erupted across her body. Harry wasn't able to look away, the man immediately leapt forward as he drew out his broadsword with one hand while maintaining his lightning with another. Dodging to the side as the man crashed down with a powerful overhead cleave, Harry was raised his wand and cast a simple ice transfiguration on the ground around the man's feet. This clearly caught him by surprise, evident in his slight stumbling and sliding, though he recovered his stance with disconcerting ease and swiftness. Not willing to give up his advantage, Harry immediately leapt forward, pocketing his wand in its holster and stabbing his lightsaber forward for the man's abdomen.

Using the ice to his advantage, the man lowered himself into a sliding crouch. Unable to stop himself, Harry missed his intended target and slammed bodily into the man's shoulder. Thanks to his momentum and the man's positioning, he was easily able to throw the teenager over his shoulder and onto the frozen ground, hard. Despite having the wind knocked from his lungs, Harry still had the presence of mind to see the man turning to impale him with his red glowing broadsword. More as a reflex than a concentrated effort, a wide blast of pure telekinesis erupted from Harry's downed form. Because it wasn't nearly as well focused as if he'd used his hand to direct it, the power was more widespread and thus weaker than it could've been. However, it was still more than enough to catch the man by surprise and knocking him tumbling away from Harry for a few meters. Quickly rolling onto his feet and canceling his conjured ice with a wave of his hand, Harry hefted up his lightsaber into a simple defensive stance, trying to catch his breath as he watched his opponent warily.

As he was standing up, Harry saw that the man's hood had somehow gotten torn and was hanging limply over one of his shoulders, exposing his shiny, bald head. Standing up proudly to his full height, the man glanced at his ruined hood with a brow raised in obvious surprise, as though the thought of his clothes somehow getting damaged was something he hadn't thought a possibility of occurring. With a simple flick of the clasp, he undid the cloak that hung over his armored form and let the ruined material fall to the ground limply. As he looked at him, Harry saw something that he was almost sure was an illusion from the glow of the broadsword's red blade. The man had blood-red eyes.

"You're a lot better than I thought you'd be," Harry said quietly, acknowledging the man's experience. Though he knew it wouldn't have been an easy battle, he hadn't expected the man to have been able to adjust to the changes and surprises that he'd enacted. Maybe that was a bit arrogant on Harry's part, but he really didn't know just what the man was capable of yet.

"And you're a fair bit more entertaining than most of the others I've killed," the man said, his lips pulling back into a wide and confident sneer, exposing a mouthful of sharp teeth and fangs. "But you have no idea what you're up against."

"A Vampire, clearly," Harry pointed out, gesturing towards the Dark being slightly. Despite himself, unease began creeping into Harry. Vampires were among some of the most detested and dangerous Dark Creatures there were. Not only were they near-immortal, blood-sucking monsters, but they had a number of natural magical powers that further set them over the run-of-the-mill Wizard; heightened speed and reflexes, immunity to most types of common Defense magic, and (in the cases of exceptionally powerful ones) a hypnotic stare. "I think I have pretty idea what to expect from you."

The Vampire barked out a laugh, putting his fangs out on display in a blatant attempt to further unnerve Harry. "_You have __**no**__ idea, __**boy**_."

In a sudden burst of speed, the Vampire suddenly sprinted forward. If not for his Sorcery's awareness guiding and enlightening him, Harry would've literally lost his head to the charging Vampire's swing. Instead, he brought his saber up and caught the broadsword blade on his own, stopping the blade but straining mightily against the Vampire's incredible strength. The overwhelming force was actually enough to send Harry sliding backwards through the grass for a short distance.

Recovering from his surprise, Harry acted quickly, hopping backwards as the Vampire began a series of powerful but seemingly wild swings of his sword. It wasn't truly a conscious effort on his part, but Harry found himself settling into a strange mental state. He found himself somehow using his Sorcery to help him anticipate the strikes mere split-seconds before they were swung. It wasn't enough of an advantage for him to anticipate the strike, dodge, and dish out his own. He was barely managing to keep his head on his shoulders, quite literally in some cases. Then suddenly the flow of the swordfight changed drastically.

With only a slight movement, the red broadsword suddenly stabbed under the blue plasma saber, then flicked upwards and Harry's blade went flying harmlessly high of its mark. With a slight reversal of his wrist, the Vampire stabbed straight ahead, and Harry had to throw himself backward. He brought his lightsaber across as he did, trying to parry, but the Vampire had already retracted his blade by then and had settled back into a perfect defensive posture. Against that posture, Harry's following flurry of attacks seemed exaggerated and inefficient. The Vampire defeated each one after another, with a slight parry or dodge, seeming barely to move.

In an instant, Harry realized what had happened. The Vampire had switched to a different fighting style that was something close to fencing with rapiers, something that Harry had next to no experience in fighting against. Compared to the Vampire's graceful stabs and elegant parries, Harry's swings and thrusts seemed little better than a child wielding a club. The smart thing to do would've been for Harry to back away and switch his own style, preferably to start throwing out his own curses and jinxes with his wand. But he was scarcely able to do anything but dodge and parry, and just _barely_ at that. The Vampire clearly knew this as well, and wasn't letting him make any distance to do that either.

Now, as the battle played out between the young Sorcerer and the Vampire, the fencer proved his skill and experience in spades. Harry leapt and spun, slashing side to side, chopping and thrusting, but all of the Vampire's movements seemed far more efficient. He followed a single line, front and back, his feet shifting to keep him constantly in perfect balance as he retreated and came on suddenly with devastating thrusts that had Harry stumbling backwards almost as constantly. One especially close stab struck against right shoulder, throwing his balance off momentarily. If not for the Centaur-iron pauldron he'd been wearing, Harry had little doubt that the fight would've quickly ended after that, if he even still had his arm afterwards. The fact that his sword hadn't taken the limb off must've surprised the Vampire, for he came to a stop to stare at it.

"So, this is the depth of your powers and skill?" the Vampire taunted, sneering widely as he came down from his surprise and once again displayed his fangs and sharp teeth. Harry knew the Vampire was trying to intimidate him by showing them off, and it was kind of working, chipping away at his resolve and confidence. "My master actually thought you might've been a threat to us. He must have overestimated your worth."

Without comment, Harry steadied himself and shifted his lightsaber from hand to hand, getting a better grip on it. Then he exploded into motion, coming on again fiercely, his blue lightsaber flashing all about. He kept a better measure of his cuts this time, though, reversing his angle often, turning a wide slash into a sudden thrust. He soon had the Vampire backing away, the red blade working furiously to keep Harry's at bay. Harry pressed forward more forcefully, but the Vampire continued to fend off the strikes, and then his momentum played out. He was too far forward, while the Vampire remained in perfect balance, ready for a counterstrike. And then it was the Vampire suddenly pressing the attack, the red blade stabbing and retracting so quickly that most of Harry's cutting parries hit nothing but air. Harry had to jump back, and back again, as those thrusts moved ever closer to hitting home.

The Vampire stepped forward suddenly, stabbing low for Harry's thigh. Down went the blue blade to intercept, but to Harry's horror the Vampire retracted his weapon and thrust it right back out, up high and across the other way. Harry couldn't get his weapon back to block, nor could he slide back fast enough. The blade stabbed forward, cutting through his jacket sleeve and digging deeply into his left arm just under his shoulder muscle, causing Harry to cry out in pain. The blade was pulled back as quickly as it'd come forward. Then the broadsword was stabbed along its original course, digging into Harry's right thigh. The young Sorcerer stumbled backward, tripping and crashing hard against the ground. But even as he fell, the Vampire was there, his broadsword rolling over and inside Harry's blade. With a sudden jerk, he knocked the lightsaber from Harry's grasp and into the air, catching the deactivated blade's hilt easily.

Keeping his broadsword trained upon the boy at his feet, the Vampire closely examined the strange contraption he held. "A curious weapon, I will admit. A mixture of technology and magic, no doubt. Tell me, boy, where did you acquire this thing?"

"As if—I'd tell—you," Harry panted out, only now realizing just how exhausted he really was. It was even more tiring than anything he'd experienced before.

"Yes, that's what the other boy said," the Vampire said, not really caring at this point. Hefting up his broadsword in preparation for the finishing thrust to Harry's heart, the Vampire sneered widely, clearly relishing the imminent death of the boy. "My master will enjoy dissecting this weapon. Thank you for your contribution to the Consortium."

"_**LUMOS SOLEM!**_" a loud feminine voice cried out from somewhere nearby, followed immediately by a beam of concentrated sunlight. The sunlight briefly illuminated the Vampire's body, causing the Dark Creature to shriek in surprise and agony as the ultraviolet rays began burning away at his exposed flesh. In a burst of raw speed that was more of an instinctual dodge than anything else, the Vampire dashed off to the side, accidentally dropping Harry's lightsaber in the process.

Spinning to face his ambusher, the Vampire thrust out his free arm at Tonks. A small bead of blood-red energy quickly gathered there, sparking with jagged red lightning briefly before he blasted it forward in a beam at high speeds. Unfortunately for Tonks, she hadn't managed to glimpse just where the Vampire had run off to, so great was his speed. So she was wholly unprepared to do anything but heft up a feeble shield charm against to the onrushing beam of pure destruction. The beam slammed into her with all the force of a bullet train, sending her flying backwards almost all the way to the tree line in the distance. Her feeble shield was all that saved her life from total annihilation, if not from the cuts, scrapes, and heavily bruising from when she landed in a mangle heap on the ground.

"Tonks!" Harry cried out, having managed to hoist himself up into a crouch position. Then, in a burst of pure rage and anger, he gathered his magic and turned to face the Vampire. He unleashed all of his rage in the single most powerful wave of lightning he'd ever conjured before, howling like a possessed beast the whole time.

The Vampire barely had time to drop his broadsword and bring up his hands, catching the powerful lightning in his palms and channeling it through his own body. He absorbed and redirected the lightning back outwards into a spray of his own lightning. Harry had never seen such a thing before and was momentarily surprised, which caused him to lose his own concentration. The Vampire's lightning struck him full on and Harry cried out in pain as the energy ignited his previous injuries into a conflagration of burning agony. The pain was incredible, searing every nerve back to its individual cells, skewering each of them on white-hot needles. He had never felt anything like this before, not even Voldemort's Cruciatus compared to this!

Through the haze of pain, he brought his own hands up and was able catch the majority of the lightning within his own palms, though several stray strands of it branched out and struck him. He wanted to recoil from the source, to curl into a ball and let unconsciousness take the pain away. But somehow he stayed kneeling in his crouch, seeing the world through a crackling blue light, even as the Vampire began approaching him while maintaining the lightning. The Vampire must've hoped to overpower his defensive by closing the distance, which increased the lethality of the lightning. After what felt like millennia but was only a few seconds, the Vampire was only a short distance away. Harry suddenly mustered his strength and grabbed ahold of the Vampire's hands and gripped tight. The magical lightning spread to engulf the two of them, fueled by both of their desperations. The Vampire tipped his head back, howling in lascivious pain. Darkness threatened to claim Harry's mind, but he clutched to consciousness with feverish will. He had to see this through.

Then suddenly, the contained energy that the two titans had been struggling with surged to the surface. A massive shockwave erupted from their combined hands, expanding outwards more than a dozen meters in a dazzling display of blue-white electrical energy. Dust, dirt, and grass were kicked up as the shockwave released itself through the air, creating a deafening crack of thunder that echoed across the abandoned park and through the large city. From the epicenter of this explosion, two bodies were thrown in opposite directions, coming to tumbling halts some twenty meters apart. What followed was a moment of total silence that not even the winds and insects dared interrupt for fear of consequences. Then, one of the bodies moved, rolling over and painfully pushing himself up to his feet.

Looking up at his downed opponent, the Vampire sneered triumphantly. "Foolish boy. As I said, you had no idea what you were up against."

Standing up straighter, he waited for a long moment as his body's heightened healing factor took effect, rejuvenating him and closing his wounds. Walking forward to the boy, he held out his hand to the side, his discarded broadsword jumping to his palm immediately. The fight had cost him more than he normally was accustomed to. The boy was indeed _very_ powerful, as his master had foreseen, but he was raw, unfocused, and barely disciplined. In times like this, he was extremely happy to have been born a Vampire. For while he was magically drained and would be unable to use the bulk of his magic spells and techniques for the better part of an hour, he still possessed far more physical stamina than any human in this situation. His physiology helped him to overcome and survive exhausting battles like these quite regularly, which is why many of the Hunters his master employed were Vampires and other types of Dark magical creatures.

However, before he could cross even half of the distance between them, the Vampire suddenly stopped as a new being popped into existence ahead of him.

"A house-elf?" the Vampire laughed derisively, unable to stop himself.

"You will not harm Dobby's Master!" Dobby the house-elf declared out angrily. The little elf was dressed in a dark brown colored pants and jacket with a billowing off-white cloak over his shoulders for protection against the cold air. Snatching a little hilt from the belt on his waist, a small green blade sprung to life in his hand. The sight of the pint-sized lightsaber only caused the Vampire to laugh that much harder and louder, despite the furious gaze that the elf was shooting him.

However, all laughter died the moment that the Vampire attacked with a sudden and devastating thrust. But one that never got close to hitting. With hardly a movement, Dobby turned the blade aside. The Vampire frowned and went into a wild flurry, the likes of which he had not shown against Harry, raining blows down on the diminutive creature. But the stalemate didn't last long as Dobby quickly tired of being on the defense. With a burst of sheer power and speed, Dobby flew forward, his blade working so mightily that its residual glow outshone even that of Harry's lightsaber when he was at the peak of his dance. The Vampire held strong though, his red broadsword parrying and defending against the warrior-elf's wild assault.

Just as the Vampire was about to launch a counter, though, Dobby was gone, leaping high and flipping, landing right behind him, striking hard. The Vampire reversed his grip and stabbed out behind him, intercepting the blow. He let go of his weapon altogether, tossing it just a bit and spun about, catching it before it had even disengaged from Dobby's blade. With a growl of rage, the Vampire reached more deeply into his magic and let it flow through him as if his physical form was a mere conduit for its power. His tempo increased suddenly and dramatically, three steps forward, two back, perfectly balanced all the while. His fighting style was one based on balance, on the back-and-forth charges, thrusts, and sudden retreats, and now he came at Dobby with a series of cunning stabs, angled left and right.

Never could he strike low though, for Dobby was continuously leaping and flipping, never staying on the ground for more than a split second. His little green blade seemed little more than a careening cyclone of deadly energy that was able to block, parry, or redirect the Vampire's broadsword. Always just deflecting the blood-sucker's weapon enough to have it miss his small, somersaulting body.

"Enough of this!" the Vampire cried out in frustration, pulling his weapon back for a powerful slash. "This ends now!"

"Dobby agrees!" Dobby answered, jumping high into the air as the Vampire swung. It was then an unexpected blast of lightning slammed into the Vampire's back. The electrical energy hit him full on and he was completely unprepared for it, causing his swing to go wide and wild as he screamed in agony. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the form of his downed opponent, having come back to consciousness while he was distracted by the elf, reaching outwards as the comparatively weak lightning leapt from his fingertips.

Despite the bad swing of the weapon, the little House-elf caught the red broadsword on his green blade, turned and used the force of the swing to accelerate his spin. Rotating in an even faster spin, Dobby swung his short blade out that much faster as he drew level with the Vampire. The last sight the Vampire saw was a flash of green filling his vision before darkness finally claimed him. As Dobby landed behind the Vampire, the Vampire's body fell limply to the ground as its head rolled to side, completely decapitated. As the Vampire's body quickly crumbled to ash and dust, Dobby ignored it and rushed to Harry.

"Master okay?" Dobby asked worriedly, looking over Harry. "Don't worry! Dobby take you somewhere safe!"

"Get…Tonks and…lightsaber," Harry wheezed out weakly as he sunk back to the ground. The worried elf wasted no time in springing to his command. Both his master and his master's friend were hurt and in need of immediate medical attention.

* * *

**Brockwell Park, London  
April 4, 1996**

The early morning air was crisp and cold. A heavy blanket of fog and mist was hanging over the massive city as the common folk slowly awoke to the rising that was creeping over the horizon. But the tranquil beauty of the setting was lost to the crowd of cloak-wearing, wand-waving individuals as they buzzed around a very specific section of the Brockwell Park. Though there were no other people in the area. That didn't stop the warders from placing strong but temporary shields to protect them and their activities from view.

Landing unsteadily on his feet, the great, powerful, and beloved Minister of Magic took a moment to center himself and shake off the disorientation brought on by travel from portkeys. It wasn't that he didn't know where to go, it was because of the delicacy of the operation that necessitated the use of portkeys. To have apparated to the crime scene would've been a terrible mistake to make for all the magical interference and disturbances such an act would've caused. It would've been roughly the equivalent of dropping a bucketful of yellow paint into a clean and untouched swimming pool, spilling water and paint everywhere. Sure, it was cleanable but it would've been pointless since the site was now irreparably stained. While portkeys still caused a disruption, it was not nearly to same scale, merely causing ripples that would easily settle down.

Looking around at the site he landed at, Fudge waited impatiently for one of the lead Ministry officials to approach and fill him in on the situation. He was noticed fairly shortly and one of his loyal men appeared at this side. The man wore the emblem of the Department of Mysteries on the right breast of his cloak. Something that caught Fudge's eye for a moment in surprise. He hadn't thought that this site would've been enough to draw _that_ particular department out of its hiding holes. "Minister, we weren't expecting you."

"This is supposedly the site of the single largest burst of raw magic in all of recorded history for the Ministry," Fudge pointed out, a slight domineering tone in his voice. "Why shouldn't I be here?"

"Eh, quite right, sir," the man said, turning and looking back at the site. Though it wasn't much to look at as far as magical battles were concerned, in Fudge's highly respectable opinion, there were a few noticeable scorch marks on the ground in seemingly random places. But, curiously, there was also a pile of ash, armor, and some kind of rusted sword in the center of the site. That was where the highest concentration of the twenty Wizards were gathered.

"What do we have here?" Fudge asked, interested. Was it possible his men had _finally_ found a lead for their ongoing search for those two delusional traitors?

"Honestly, sir?" the Department of Mysteries employee said with a slight inflection of aggravation in his tone. "We don't rightly know what happened here. We've found a pile of ashes, which we've determined to be vampiric in origin. The armor is styled heavily after Corean warriors, as far as we can tell, it only has passing resemblance. We've also found what seems to be a magical broadsword of some type, though its heavily decomposed and barely possesses even trace amounts of magic within it anymore."

"And what about the situation that caused this?" Fudge asked, looking around the site as a whole again. "It looks like a battle took place here."

"Quite right," the Unspeakable agreed easily. "As far as we can tell, the fight itself must've only lasted less than a few minutes. However, the sheer quantity of magic used here is simply off-the-charts, as you know. There's so much of it that we could almost bottle it and serve it at The Leaky Cauldron for a nominal fee."

"What were the Curses or Charms or whatever used?" Fudge asked, his mind whirling as he turned to puzzle the pieces into place.

"As best we can assume, there were none cast, aside from an occasional Protego charm," the man answered, earning an arched eyebrow from Fudge. "We suspect that a majority of the fight that took place was mostly a swordfight. Perhaps the overwhelming magic is the side-effect of some type of unknown sword-magic?"

"Possible," Fudge admitted. Such magics were rare in Wizarding Britain, and Wizarding Europe as a whole, but not unheard of. But, remembering that unforgettable scene at Hogwarts, he already had the beginnings of a theory of what took place here. "Anything else?"

"There is something else, but I don't know how to explain it," the Unspeakable said, looking uncomfortable. "We've detected high amounts of electrical magic lingering in the area. Some of it was even still clinging to the armor when we first arrived. There were also spots of some kind of highly-focused destruction magic that we've never come across before. And there's even trace amounts of what we've easily identified as a Lumos Solem charm."

"Interesting," Fudge said, his budding theory had just been confirmed in his mind. "Keep me updated on the findings." As the man nodded, Fudge held up the portkey still in his hand as said, "Return!"

Returning to the Atrium of the Ministry, Fudge's mind was awhirl as he considered just what he'd discovered. It was, without a doubt, a fight between Harry Potter and some Vampire that took place at that park. The boy had already proven to the Wizarding World that he was a power-hungry Sorcerer, a master swordsman, and had a terrifying control over the raw elemental power of lightning. It all fit together! But what was he doing in a random park of London with a Vampire?

The boy was a Sorcerer. So, it was obviously something Dark, and Vampires were among the darkest of all Magical Creatures. Recruitment, maybe? To get the Vampire clans to join his cause? But Vampires were also highly proud and territorial creatures. They wouldn't side with anyone unless it strictly benefitted their clans and causes, or the recruiter was simply too powerful for them to overcome. This was one of the big reasons why many previous Dark Lords, even Lord Voldemort himself, had never bothered trying to recruit them in the past. But the boy wasn't as well educated as all those prior to him, and he probably didn't know that little fact about Vampires. So, when this Vampire emissary turned down his offer, the boy lashed out and killed the creature. Yes, _yes_, that made perfect sense!

By the time Fudge had returned to his office, he was pale and practically shaking in terror.

If the boy was willing to ally himself with or to subjugate the Vampire clans, then the Wizarding World was in even _greater_ danger than he'd originally thought! But what was he really after? Destroying the Ministry itself to unleash chaos and death and destruction? Subjugate the Wizarding World and take over the Ministry to impose his own will? If either of those were the case, then trying to build an army would definitely be the first steps he'd take. And if he's already tried his luck with the Vampires, what other Magical and/or Dark Creatures would he approach to recruit?

The Werewolves would probably be the easiest, no question. The Giants and Trolls were historically recruited for their brute strength and simple minds. Centaurs were highly aggressive with dangerous magic-repelling weapons but they were traditionally neutral in all Wizard affairs and conflicts, so it was unlikely they'd deign to ally themselves with a dangerous Sorcerer. Still, it'd be best to start tightening the Ministry's hold on them and restricting their movements, easier to monitor and restrict their possible access with outsiders that way. Potter might even be able to recruit the Dementors to his side, especially since that weapon of his could apparently kill them, so maintaining control over them would be quite simple for him.

'_I don't have a choice_,' Fudge realized, his eyes starting to alight with hope as he looked up in realization. '_Now, more than __**ever**__, I __**need**__ them. After all the training and conditioning that I've put into them, my new taskforce should be __**more than**__ a match for Potter. I'll give them full autonomy and freedom. That way, my people should easily be able to counter Potter's recruitment, maybe even be able to hunt him down and capture him. And with their new weapons, they will definitely be able to accomplish this!_' Having reassured himself and firmed his decision, Fudge moved to send a note to his secret training facility.

It had been created in the small town of New Grimsby on the isles of Scilly shortly after Potter's escape back in October. It was a training facility that took the very best of the Aurors and Hitwizards, those most pure of blood and loyal to the Ministry, as well as any noteworthy volunteers who'd been discreetly recruited. Over the past few months, he'd had all of them groomed to be top-notched duelists, battle-wizards, and infiltrators. But he'd also had them be subtly brainwashed into being fanatically loyal to the Minister of Magic (himself) with their minds and memories befuddled through the use of questionable potions and mind-magic. This type of brainwashing was practically illegal because, unlike the traditional Imperius and Obliviate, this process was slow and thus much more deeply and permanently ingrained into their psyche.

And, thanks to the charitable contribution of an anonymous source, they also had acquired a potentially powerful weapon for their own use. He was quite confident that after six months of relentless and specialized training, they'd be far more than a match for any Wizard or Witch in all of Great Britain, even all of Wizarding Europe when he was feeling particularly boastful. And all of this was happening in secret, behind the backs of all of his political and actual friends and opponents' backs, a near-total secret enacted by his most trusted or heavily bribed of allies.

It was time to unleash the terror of his Specter Knights on this upstart Sorcerer.

* * *

**Forbidden Forest  
April 5, 1996**

The forest was its same dark, dreary, and utterly uninviting self as it always was. Rotted, skeletal trees stood anchored in the ground, hunched over as if in exhaustion of reaching in futility towards the sky in an attempt to break through the eternally overcast skies above. The ground was covered in compost, darkened leaves, and foliage, giving off a rather pungent scent of decay and death. There were no birdcalls in the forest, as no sane avian would dare approach the haunted husk of a forest. But there were various cries of certain monsters in the distance, both far and relatively nearby.

Hogarth Hughes, a proud Pureblood of the noble Hughes bloodline, was easily able to identify several of the animal cries and calls, including some Acromantula, a chorus of barking and growling that must've been one of the extremely rare three-headed dogs, and a strange shrieking cry that Hogarth guessed must've been from Hagrid's last remaining Blast-Ended Skrewt. Though all of those Magical Creatures were dangerous, Hogarth and his team of six Wizards just paid them enough mind to note the general direction and distance they were in.

"Spread out and keep your eyes open," Hogarth barked imperiously as he and his team neared the landmark, a fire-blackened boulder with an arrow engraved into it. "We're entering the supposed Centaur lands."

Glancing back at his team, he couldn't help the grimace of disgust that followed. Aside from Heather Bletchley, all of his team was a _filthy_ mudblood. _Why_ did he always get saddled with the most unworthy Wizards and Witches of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and especially the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? He just _knew_ that he and Heather were ultimately going to be the ones to do all the hard work once they finally reached the village of those damned horse-men. Putting his disgust to the back of his mind, he turned his attention back to the task at hand.

Word had trickled down through the Departments that the Minister had made a significant discovery at the scene of what must've been a Class-A battlefield. Ignoring the fact that the magical residual was simply off-the-charts, the fact that it had occurred right in the middle of Muggle London had put more than a few people in a panic. But it was from this battle that Fudge had apparently discovered just what the accursed Potter boy was finally up to and in the midst of doing, creating an army of Dark Creatures, whether to take over the Ministry or just cause chaos didn't really matter. The pile of ash identified as Vampire remains was more than enough evidence to support the Minister's claim in the eyes of many. And that was now what Hogarth and his team were investigating.

Though it was a very, _very_ unlikely possibility, the chance of the boy approaching the Centaurs with offers of an alliance were still there. After all, by all accounts, the boy had fled into the Forbidden Forest after his escape from Hogwarts and hadn't been seen since. With as powerful and clever as the boy was, it wouldn't have been hard for him to come into contact with the horse-men and then just a matter of wooing them to his cause. Again, given the boy's past history with several of their members, it was entirely possible.

This was the mission that had caused the two Departments formed a joint taskforce for. To evaluate the herd on their leanings and interrogate certain members for their interactions with the boy in the recent past, and to enforce the Ministry's right and power to keep them contained and isolated. They would not be leaving their little village until the Minister had deemed the threat neutralized. Although, in Hogarth's personal opinion, it would've been more efficient to simply leave them blockaded inside until they all died off from starvation and infighting. '_The beasts are worthless and don't deserve the privilege to live in even a tiny fraction of the Wizarding World at all_.'

The team of two Centaur Liaison Office officials, two filthy mudbloods about to be sacked no doubt, and four Aurors, including Hogarth, made it nearly halfway through the Centaur lands when they finally encountered a small patrol of the beasts. As they no doubt knew they should've, the Centaurs hung back, safely out of what they clearly knew was accurate spell-casting distance, watching the approaching Wizards wearily as one of their number turned and galloped off in the direction of their village to inform their leaders. The other Centaurs quickly fanned out to either side as they drew their weapons and prepared for a fight. Although, Hogarth wasn't sure just what kinds of weapons they were holding as they kept them down and slightly hidden behind the various trees they stood behind, but he was able to glimpse the shafts of what were likely spears and an occasional crossbow. '_As if they can stand up against the might of true and pure blooded Wizard!_'

However, the two Centaur Liaison officials had slowed in their approach and were staring up at the creatures with cautious and curious gazes. "Something's not right," one of them said.

"What?" Hogarth snapped irritably. He hated interacting with those lower than his station.

The filthy speaker glanced at Hogarth with a hint of challenge in his expression, no doubt hearing his confrontational tone. "Normally, the Centaurs would charge right up to us and demand what we're doing in their lands. They don't shy away from us, ever. Also, what are those glowing things they're wearing? I've never seen any Centaur with something like that." As Hogarth was about to make a derogatory statement about the man's observations, he quickly interrupted him by finishing with, "And I've had this job for more than _ten years_. I _know_ what I'm talking about."

Despite himself, Hogarth nodded in reluctant acceptance to the point. Even if the Centaur Liaison Office was a dead-end job that saw most of its employees rapidly booted out of the Ministry, experience speaks for itself. As does a man's dedication to his job, useless and pointless as it was.

Regardless of the strange actions of the horse-men, the Wizards continued on their original course. As they drew nearer, Hogarth was able to get a better view of the admittedly strange objects that each of the horse-men wore upon their person somewhere. Most wore the glowing objects as part of the centerpiece of what was clearly a tribal necklace. Others had the objects woven into some wooden and leather gauntlets and bracers on their forearms. But there was one notable one who had one hanging from a string as an earring.

Curiosity overruling his judgment, Hogarth stopped his approach and turned to the nearest beast. "You there! What is that glowing thing? Bring it here, now!"

The Centaur in question just glowered angrily, but didn't move forward at the command. Instead, he merely hefted up the crossbow he was carrying into a more deliberate firing position. It'd only take a slight lean to side in order for him to release his arrow on the arrogant Wizard, though he held back on his instinct to do so. Bane and Tanja would be quite unhappy if they revealed their new weapons to the vile Wizards so soon. Although, this particular Wizard seemed especially vile and likely _should_ be killed as soon as possible.

Ignoring the filthy mudblood as he tried to stop him, Hogarth pointed his wand at the beast threateningly. "I said '_bring it_'!" Hogarth commanded, accenting his demand with a flex of his magic. The glowing jewel hanging from the horse-man's necklace jumped forward at his magical command, straining against the strings and hairs to obey its summons. Without even glancing away from Hogarth, the beast grabbed ahold of the jewel, causing a brief flicker of light to emit from between its fingers around it, before releasing it and having it drop back into place on its chest. This action infuriated Hogarth.

With a silent cast, ropes sprung to life from his wandtip and raced at the horse-man at incredible speeds. Before the horse-man could do little more than rear back in surprise, the ropes had reached and started already entangling him. Following Hogarth's silent instructions, the ropes immediately bond the beast's forelegs and wrapped tightly around its neck, choking it. It drew quite a bit of delicious dark humor from Hogarth as he watched the creature wreath and struggle to escape, neighing like an actual horse as it fell to the ground gracelessly.

However, Hogarth's attack didn't go unchallenged. The other beasts quickly poked out from behind their hiding places, pointing strange black and painted weapons at them before they fired. Hogarth and the other Wizards quickly threw up shields to protect them from the strange magical curses the horse-men were throwing at them. As soon as the first curses struck their shields, it was obvious that something was really and truly wrong. Not only were the beasts' curses being fired at a phenomenally fast rate, too fast for it be called actual 'spell-casting', but the curses themselves were far more than they first appeared.

The basic Protego shield charm could protect against most types of curses and attacking spells, discharging and dispersing the magical energy upon the translucent shield like a wave breaking on a rock. Since the most common method of attackers in the Wizarding World was through the use of magic, this type of shielding was usually enough. However, the smarter duelists and combatants knew that the best way around this defense was the use of solid projectiles like arrows and rocks. Granted, if the projectiles were magical in nature (whether through creation or enchanted), then they could still be deflected and protected against by the Protego. And at first glance, what the horse-men were using strongly resembled curses, but clearly weren't.

What happened when the beasts' magic hit the Protego shields was the classic splatter effect as the magic involved in the curses' creation was harmlessly dispersed and deflected as what should've happened. However, the glowing blue fluids that were entrapped within the magic carried on unimpeded, breaking apart and spreading out like a watery splatter. And when the blue fluid struck the Wizards, they were immediately assaulted with crippling and agonizing burning pain where the splatters hit. The fluid easily burned through their woolen robes and underclothes, burning its way into their flesh like acid for several agonizing seconds before suddenly evaporating like smoke. In a roundabout way, the Wizards' robes actually protected their lives, causing the blue-hot plasma to have more surface area to burn through before reaching the vulnerable flesh underneath, by which point the plasma had already lost much of its power.

Of course, that fact wasn't known and would've been of little comfort to the pompous Wizards. They all recoiled in pain and surprise, some having the forethought and ability to retaliate to their aggressors. However, the Centaurs were ready for that as well. Three of the Centaurs brought forward their spears and ignited shining blue blades of pure magical energy from the ends of the shafts. With simple sweeps, they swept the curses aside without even breaking their strides as they suddenly charged forward, hefting their spears in preparation for some killing strikes or disabling slashes.

Hogarth managed to throw up another shield against the horse-man that was charging him, but it was of little use. The glowing end of the spear easily penetrated the feeble shield and sliced off the Wizard's outstretched arm just below his shoulder. Hogarth let out a loud, pained and panicked cry as he stumbled back, staring uncomprehendingly at his severed arm that was still clutching his wand. Hearing the approach of another horse-man, he looked up at the beast as it charged him from the side, its lightpike held in a low, sweeping posture that was sure to dismember his legs next.

In a state of shock, Hogarth sunk to his knees, grasping his severed arm. As the beast neared him, preparing to now remove his head from his body, Hogarth apparated away, not caring about the fates of his team in the least. _His_ life was _far_ more important than any of theirs after all. Plus, the Minister needed to know about these horrifying change of events as soon as possible!

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Heh, I actually had a lot more fun writing this chapter than I thought I would. Usually, writing up the aftermath of a fight is pretty boring but not in this case. I hope I managed to portray Fudge's paranoia and Hogarth's racism properly, without making them seem too competent (because they're _not_).

Still, I wonder just what your opinions are on the various things that happened in this chapter. If my betas are anything to go by, I bet most of you had a _**'WTF?!**_' moment when it was _DOBBY_ who managed to kill the Hunter (with Harry's help, of course). Before any of you ask, _yes_, I drew heavy inspiration from Yoda vs. Dooku for what Dobby's particular lightsaber style is like. But what's this about the 'Specter Knights'? Anyone wanna guess what they're based off of? FYI: New Grimsby is the name of a town on the Scilly isles southwest of the English mainland, for those who didn't know. And finally, can anyone guess just what's about to happen between the Ministry and Centaurs now?

For those of you who'll likely complain, here's my reasoning for the obvious difference in lightsaber skills between Harry and Dobby. Dobby **_needs_ **to be an utterly badass swordsman. As stated in a previous chapter, a House-elf is like a _partial_ Sorcerer. They can touch and use the ambient magics of the world, but to a much _lesser_ amount of that of a human. So, even at the height of his ultimate power, Dobby would've only come to be _less than a quarter_ as strong as Harry. A 2 of 10 on the power scale I established. So, in compensation, he needs to magnify other skills. And Harry has been focusing more time on his magical training with the crystal ball than his combat or lightsaber skills (something I obviously should've shown beforehand, but oh well).

And finally, for those who are interested, be sure to check out **Aminta Defender**'s Mayhem at Hogwarts. It's story that's being written at my request that features just what's happening at Hogwarts after Harry fled there. So, yes, it's technically 'canon' as well.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter as much I did writing it.


	18. Call to Action!

**The Lightsaber**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#18: Call to Action!_

**MagiTech HQ, Centre Point Tower  
April 5, 1996**

The clash and crashes of two blue energy blades rang, sparked, and sizzled as they were bashed relentlessly against each other. The speeds they were moving at was remarkable, leaving the blades themselves as little more than blurs of light. But it was quite clear that one was a great deal faster and stronger than the other, pounding mercilessly against the weaker one.

Dudley was moving as fast as he could get his exhausted body to move. He had long since passed the stage of fighting with tactics and strategy in mind, instead falling back into a purely instinctive defense. Though it was clear that he was going to drop from sheer exhaustion fairly soon, his conscious mind was no longer listening to the complaints and agony of his body, essentially _willing_ himself to keep fighting on. In some ways, it was like when he was lifting weights in the gym, pushing himself as far as he could go and then pushing even harder to press on past that point until his mind just numbed out the pain and responded to his sheer force of will.

Swinging his blue saber back and forth, he was able to catch, deflect, or block the rapid sweeps, slashes, and stabs that were thrown at him, knocking them harmlessly to the side. After one especially strong overhead chop that he caught, Dudley was forced to his knees by the overpowering strength of the blow. But rather than be cowed by this, he mustered his flagging strength and heaved upward. With a mighty shove, he knocked the attacking blade away as he rose as quickly as he could, sliding his body sideways and angling his upraised elbow. The physical strike didn't hit anything but air as Harry clearly anticipated it and smoothly dodged to the side, sliding away from his cousin with almost mocking grace. Then, in a deft swing, the lightsaber in Dudley's grasp went tumbling to the side, deactivating as it left his hand. Within a heartbeat, he was on the ground with a saber point just under his chin as he panted for breath.

"You win…_again_," Dudley said, annoyed and more than a little angry. "Can we…_stop now?_ We've…fought for…two _hours_ now!"

There was an uncharacteristically dark look in Harry's expression, even as he pulled away his saber and helped Dudley up to his feet. "No, I _need_ to be better, Dudley. I…_lost_ that fight! I was dead by rights. If not for Dobby, I _should_ be dead!"

"I get that…_really_, I do!" Dudley said. "So why…don't you train…with _him?_ Or…the Lycans?"

"As skilled as he is, Dobby _isn't_ a good sparring for me to have," Harry said, glowering in angry exasperation. "He'd _let_ me win. He wouldn't want to hurt me in any way, if not outright refuse it. And there's only so much I can learn and do by self-training. I _need_ a partner! The Lycans are busy with MagiTech and I don't want to bother Hendrick. He may have been a soldier, but not a swordsman. No one is nowadays."

"Maybe you should go to Japan," Dudley offered. "I hear they still teach swordsmanship there."

Harry blinked in surprise for a moment as the idea was processed. "Maybe…If I can't find anyone here to help."

"What about that Tonks lady?" Dudley asked as he walked weakly over to the side for a nearly empty bottle of water. "She's got a lightsaber." He gestured slightly towards to the weapon he'd been using, before it leapt up from the ground and into Harry's outstretched hand.

Smiling somewhat down at the oddly colored, sectional hilt with an exotic blue pommel stone that had Tonks' unique brand of artistry and magical signature saturated in it, he shook his head again. Even without her physical presence there, the aura of her crystal within the weapon was almost enough to lighten his dark mood. "She's an Auror, a magical policewoman. She's not accustomed to using a sword. Plus she can only miss so much work at a time. Still, it was nice of her to loan her saber to us."

Tossing the hilt back over to Dudley, he said, "Let's go again, half-speed this time if we have to."

"Half speed, double speed, hyper speed, what's the difference?" Dudley grumbled irritably. He really disliked it when Harry got like this, which thankfully didn't seem all that often but was often enough. Despite the low tone he'd mumbled it in, he saw a smirk pull across Harry's face and knew that he'd heard him. Sighing heavily in resignation, he brought up the borrowed blade and prepared for a repeat performance. If nothing else, this was excellent endurance training for himself. However, before either boy could move to attack, a sudden commotion sprang up outside their little training room.

The new owners of Centre Point were still working around the clock ever since they'd purchased the old tower, repairing and updating the slightly outdated and decrepit building. They were clearing out entire floors, reinforcing the foundations and structural points, adding in new additions of their own creation and design. Seeing as they could use magic discreetly for a good portion of the job nowadays, the work had been going at an accelerated pace that would've put even the best of carpenters and construction workers out of work and green envy. The way of the building's new design was the bottom 7 floors were meant to be used as display and shopping areas for the customers. Floors 8 to 12 were for security, maintenance, small temporary apartments for their workaholic employees, and a lounge for the employees. Floors 13 to 31 were dedicated solely to research and minor manufacturing of their products, strictly forbidden from customers unless possessing special passes. Granted, nearly all of these floors were still under construction since MagiTech's management was more concerned with selling their current items than expanding their inventory list, especially since they were already developing dedicated factories elsewhere in the world to meet their contract demands.

The upper three floors were for MagiTech's executives and 'special guests', possessing luxuries that were usually found in high-end flats such as a gymnasium, swimming pool and hot tubs, a small bar and rec room, and several king-sized bedrooms. Suffice to say, the level of more blatantly used magic increased with each floor one ascended. And it was within one of those gymnasiums that the two cousins had been training in. And since the top floors were as restricted as the research and development floors were, the fact that a commotion was taking place outside their gym was definitely worth catching their attentions.

"That sounds like Hector," Dudley said, identifying the voice of MagiTech's Chief of Security, a former Greyback Pack member. "But who's the other?"

"Feels like Magorian," Harry said, sounding concerned as he switched off his lightsaber and hurried to the door. "He's a Centaur from up by Hogwarts. What's he doing _here_?"

_'More like, **how** did he get here?_' Dudley thought, more than a little curious as he hurried after his cousin. When the doors were opened, he couldn't help but flinch back in surprise as he looked up, up, and up some more at the especially large and tall creature that was quite obviously a Centaur warrior. Even if he'd never known anything about magic and the Wizarding World, just the sight of this tall and powerful creature would've been enough to convince him of its existence without pause or dispute.

The Centaur was lightly dressed with some leather and armor upon his humanoid upper body, with some rather unique tribal braids and weavings interwoven within his golden hair and clothing. Strangely, the blaster rifle and a shaft of iron hanging behind the Centaur's back only seemed to enhance the creature's imposing figure. Even the tree branch he held in his grasp as a walking stick somehow didn't seem out of place.

"Magorian, what's wrong?" Harry asked, moving forward with the ease of familiarity with the Centaur that Dudley was very envious of. "Why are you here? What's going on?"

"You know this creature, Potter?" Hector asked, speaking up before the Centaur could respond, not lowering his blaster rifle until he heard confirmation.

"Yes, don't worry, he isn't here to cause trouble," Harry answered quickly, holding up his hand comfortingly to weary Lycan.

"No, I'm not," Magorian said with a tone of irritation as he glanced down at the aggressive wolf. Though he'd never met Werewolves in person outside of their transformed state, it was pretty clear to him that this one was very in touch with his more primal side, aggressively protective of his territory and pack members, which clearly made for a good combination in a sentry and guard. Glancing over at Harry once the Lycan had reluctantly lowered his rifle, the Centaur warrior continued speaking, "But I bring bad news, I'm afraid."

"What news?" Harry asked, his annoyed anger resurfacing again. What else could go wrong?!

"The Ministry knows about our new weapons," the Centaur said bluntly, ignoring the flinch of surprise and look of unease on his companions' expressions. "Bane believes they will be back, in force. He requests your presence immediately."

"On my way," Harry said immediately.

"Not without me!" Dudley chimed in, meeting Harry's gaze challengingly.

"And I'll inform Mr. Black," Hector said, turning and hurrying off towards the Black scion's new office.

Magorian held up the tree branch he was holding and the two boys grabbed it firmly, vanishing into a vortex of magic.

* * *

**Centaur Village, Forbidden Forest**

There was a flurry of activity not like anything Harry had yet seen that buzzed throughout the Centaur village. As he idly helped Dudley back to his feet following the portkey ride the three of them had taken, Harry had to take a moment to center himself. Anxiety, fear, anger, excitement, and bloodlust hung heavily in the air, permeating from each individual in varying amounts. The sheer scale of these emotions slammed into Harry like a ton of bricks and left him momentarily breathless.

"Bane is waiting for you in the village center," Magorian said as he discarded the tree branch that was the expired portkey.

Gesturing the two smaller humans to follow, Magorian started leading the way done the path between the stone, mud, and wooden huts that made up the entirety of the village. Unlike with human settlements, the Centaur village was not laid out in a grid pattern or contorted to the lays of the land. Instead, it consisted of a series of chaotic interlinking and sometimes concentric circles. Some of the circles were entirely disconnected and stood apart as their own entities, but near enough to be considered as part of the overall village. There were dirt paths between the huts and along major walkways that could've been tentatively called 'streets' with enough space for several Centaurs to traverse through without too much difficulty. From what little Harry had come to understand of this strange layout, each circle of huts belonged to a specific family group or clan, with the larger clans have multiple circles surrounding the head family and clan leader. At the very center of this messy setup was the village center which had multiple uses as a market, social gathering place, and for political debates. Given that there were about four hundred Centaurs in total that resided within this village and called the Forbidden Forest home, it could get pretty crowded pretty quickly.

Although Harry had seen the village multiple times, Dudley was gazing around with curiosity mixed with weariness. His caution was understandable since a lot of the Centaurs were staring at the blonde human stranger with open suspicion and even outright anger in their eyes. It must've been the mounting stress of the coming battle, Harry figured as the cause of this. Yet thankfully none of them moved forward to confront Dudley due to his close proximity to both Magorian and Harry, a human they'd reluctantly come to accept as friendly.

Entering into the village center, they found it be every bit as crowded as Harry guessed it would be. Many warriors were gathering in the area, carrying their weapons in preparation. The sight made for an interesting clash of medieval spears, bows, and arrows mixed with their new lightpikes, blasters, and the still uncommon bowcasters. And Harry noted that many of them were also wearing or being outfitted with mail or armor plating. Some of them were speaking in hushed tones over various subjects. Others, whether family or friends or lovers, were holding each other in embraces and trying to give comfort and support.

Following their guide, the two boys made their way to the very center of the open area. There they found Bane, Tanja, and several other Centaurs gathered around a high table. In a remarkable display of magic, there was a glowing green model of the Forbidden Forest hovering over the table top like a hologram. A quick glance at the map showed Harry three red areas that stood out starkly against the map. The first was quite clearly the Centaur village which was located in the midst of the central portion of the Forbidden Forest. An especially large red area dominated the entire south that was just as obviously the area where the grounds of Hogwarts met with the forest in the south. But the last area was in the far west and didn't seem very familiar to him, regardless of his lack of familiarity with the forest.

Harry's attention as quickly torn from the map as the gathered leaders of the Centaurs noticed the boys' arrival. "Bane, Tanja," Harry said in greeting. "What's going on?"

"We're preparing for war," Bane stated, somewhat unnecessarily as it was pretty obvious to everyone.

"Has the Ministry made any more threatening moves against you yet?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm and level, devoid the slight fear and uncertainty he was feeling. He wasn't ready to fight against his fellow countrymen and Wizards. Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and this 'Consortium' that the Vampire had mentioned were one thing. But this…_this_ was something else entirely. "Have you tried to talk to them and explain what the misunderstanding was about…? It _was_ a misunderstanding, right?"

"From a certain point of view," Tanja said, her glance and tone telling Harry that she far disapproved of what was done but was unable to alter it. "A group of Wizards entered our lands and encountered one of our patrols. But one of them grew curious about our…accessories—" Here she gently rubbed the glowing green gem she wore around her neck as a pendant, pointedly clarifying what she meant. "But when we refused to hand over our possessions and have them examined, things…_escalated_."

"We don't keep in contact with your Ministry of Magic," Bane said, speaking once it was obvious that Tanja didn't wish to continue on the topic. "Once, long ago, we did so out of spite. But the truth of the matter is we also _can't_. There is no place we can go to talk with the Ministry as we are forbidden from leaving the lands of the forest. And due to our own…actions in the past, if we tried to speak with anyone in the castle or the Wizarding village, it'd be seen as an act of war."

Harry and Dudley both blinked in surprise and a good deal of angry disbelief. It was Dudley who spoke up first. "So they basically caged you all inside this filthy forest with no means of speaking with anyone else on the outside?! What a bunch of lack-witted, selfish prats!" That statement drew several chuckles from the gathered Centaurs, causing Dudley to flush slightly in embarrassment.

"Indeed," Magorian said beside them. "The only way we can speak with the Wizards' Ministry is when _they_ come to _us_."

"By which point, they will have already made their own decision on what the situation is and how it should be handled, whatever it may be," Harry said quietly in contemplation.

"We are under no illusions they will see us as the threat and the ones at fault," one of the other Centaurs said. "They will invade our lands, raid our village and homes for contraband, and likely set up lethal wards and spells to keep us contained within the village for a time. It is what they have always done in the past."

"But in the past, you never had magic-amplifying crystals, lightpikes, and blasters," Dudley observed, more to himself than the others. "They will expect bows, arrows, and spears. They will probably think they can just march into the village with no real opposition and throw their weight around."

"You said the Ministry knows about your new weapons," Harry said, looking at Magorian. "Which ones were used that they know of?"

"The blasters and our pikes," the Centaur said, gazing levelly at the dark-haired teenager who flinched at the lightpike's mention. "Something wrong?"

"The Ministry knows a bit about the 'magic' of the lightpike," Harry said, reaching up to hold the back of his neck in awkward unease. "They know I created the lightsaber. They know it's a dangerous weapon that can repel spells. And they will likely think that since you suddenly have similar weapons, that you're in league with the new 'dark lord' that fought off over two dozen of their Aurors last year."

"Then the Wizards will most assuredly come, and they will be coming not to contain us, but to destroy us," Bane said, grimness written all over his face. "We have hard enough times dealing with just a handful of Wizards before we got these new weapons… We're not ready for a new war against an army of Wizards."

"You won't be fighting alone," Harry quickly said. "I'll fight with you if they attack. This is, in part, my fault."

"Mr. Black and the Lycans are also learning about what's going on here as we speak," Dudley said, his confidence starting to build as he grew accustomed to the situation. "I'm sure we could get a few volunteers from them to help. Or, if not, we could always lend you guys some of our prototype war-tech that we're developing. Some of that stuff will definitely give you an edge!"

Bane nodded in contemplation. "The Wizards are already aware of our two biggest secrets. Some advantages are better than none." Looking down at the boys, he asked, "How soon can we get this new technology?"

"I can return and gather up everything I can in less than half of an hour if things go smoothly," Harry said confidently. "Quicker if I get some volunteers to help."

Harry left soon after that to gather everything that could reliably be used. Dudley remained in the forest, brainstorming with the Centaur leaders on ways to better defend the village and sharing what he knew about some of the technology he guessed Harry'd be bringing back.

* * *

When Harry returned to the village more than an hour later, he was accompanied by nearly a hundred Lycans, including Hendrick of the Alba Pack. Each of the hundred volunteers were lugging about a crate filled with various goods and supplies, some of which the Centaurs recognized but most that they didn't. With help from weary Centaurs, the Lycans began heading about, passing out weapons and setting up some of the strange devices at different locations. Harry and Hendrick moved over to the village center to speak with the leaders.

Walking up to the central table with its hologram still in place, Hendrick glanced between the different Centaurs, his nose visibly twitching as he took in the scents of those gathered. Turning to Bane, who he somehow knew was the leader, Hendrick threw him a crisp salute, "Hendrick of the Alba Pack, former muggle military and soldier. I have considerable battlefield experience with both tactics and strategy. I and my Lycan volunteers will offer whatever support we can give."

Bane looked momentarily uncertain just what Hendrick was speaking of. But he recovered very quickly, nodding his head in acceptance as he waved his hand over the glowing image. "This is what we have to work with. Our village here, the forest's boundaries with Hogwarts, and the Acromantula nest." He pointed out each red section as he named them. "And farther south is that Wizard village."

"The castle is a school for children, right?" Hendrick asked, immediately focusing on the map and the terrain's layout, only briefly glancing over at Harry as he asked his question.

"Yes," Harry acknowledged. "I'd say it's unlikely that the Ministry will be approaching from that area. They wouldn't want to put the students into danger somehow."

Nodding in contemplation, Hendrick eyed the map silently. Reaching out for the map, he briefly touched a small portion of it where a small river was shown. At his touch, a soft blue spot was highlighted, which he used to draw a small circle around a specific area. "We'll have to place a small group to watch this stream. It flows right up to the village, and could provide a fairly easy route for the Wizards to take." Reaching over to the other side of the village, he traced a blue line along the outer perimeter. "The forest is thinner here with such an open field there. This would probably be the easiest way for large numbers of them to reach us the quickest." Lowering his hand, he traced a pair of lines across a path through the forest that went south towards where Harry knew Hagrid's hut was. "And the most direct route to the village, probably the first path they're going to try taking. We'll need a series of defenses to guard this path to slow or stop their advance, assuming they don't decide to brave the forest itself and go around them. And, of course, this isn't even taking into account if they decide to fly straight here."

"An astute observation," Bane commented, nodding in agreement with the various points that Hendrick highlighted. "My people know this forest best, we can easily scout these areas for intruders."

"And you can leave the air to us," Hendrick said. "It'll give us some good practical experience with some of our new equipment and machines."

"We should probably set up shield generators around the village," Dudley said. "Just in case the Wizards make it this far."

"Already doing it, Dud," Harry said, nodding at his cousin.

"What about the women, children, and those not able to fight?" Dudley asked, looking between Bane and Hendrick. "If the Wizards really are such prats, they'll probably keep pushing until they get their way. We need to protect those that can't or won't fight."

"A good point," Hendrick said. "We shouldn't assume that we'll be capable of stopping them." Looking over at Bane, he asked, "Do you have any secret safe areas we can put them to keep them out of the fighting?"

"No," Magorian answered, shaking his head. "We've never had the numbers to see the necessity of building a second village and the safest area was always the village itself."

There was a lingering silence around the table as the different leaders contemplated this problem. "I've got an idea." Dudley offered, looking somewhat hesitant. "But…you probably won't like it, sir."

"Let's hear it, boy," Hendrick said, gazing at the boy with interest.

"We could always load them into one of our new ships and fly them completely out of the area," Dudley said. "If that doesn't work, we could always hide them in the higher levels of Centre Point. Most of the tower still isn't open to the public after all."

"Centre Point? Tower?" one of the centaurs said. "What are you talking about?"

"We recently bought a large tower in London," Harry explained calmly, smiling at his cousin encouragingly. "It's to be a place where we can expand our business and factory to build MagiTech. But, like Dudley said, most of it is still under construction."

"You want to bring our elders and children into the midst of a Muggle city and hide them inside a tower?!" the centaur demanded hotly. "Are you daft, boy?!"

"The idea does have merit," Hendrick said, turning his attention back to the hologram as he thought about it. "The Wizards would never even consider looking for them in the center of the city, since they'd stand out quite blatantly. They'll assume that they've been hidden somewhere in the forest and waste time looking for them. And even if we don't keep them there, we can always hide them on our ships and keep them moving. A moving target is always harder to find and hit… What do you think, Bane?"

Bane looked somewhat uncomfortable as he considered the idea, no doubt feeling the weight of his fellow Centaurs' glares and gazes. "I'll consider it."

"Don't take too long," Hendrick advised. "The longer you take to decide, the less time we'll have to do anything."

Nodding, Bane reached forward and tapped the spots that Hendrick had crossed off on the path. "What ideas do you have for fortifications here?"

"I've got a couple," the Lycan grinned, somewhat sinisterly as he glanced at the Centaur.

"Tell me," Bane ordered.

* * *

**Ministry of Magic  
April 7, 1996**

Nymphadora Tonks was in a very bad mood. She had heard about what had happened in the Forbidden Forest, everyone had at this point. It was all over the _Daily Prophet._ Though she was sure that what they were hearing about was an overly inflated and incriminating version of what had really taken place. That over fifty Centaurs had launched an unprovoked vicious attack and killed nearly all members of an honorable squad of Aurors and Ministry personnel who were only trying to do a simple routine inspection of their lands and village.

Truthfully, the attack itself was almost nothing out of the ordinary. Centaurs were highly-aggressive and territorial, holding a well-deserved and deep-seated grudge against the Ministry of Magic and Wizards in general. It was a very risky venture to journey into the Centaur lands on a good day, even disregarding that they lived in the Forbidden Forest. Attacks on inspectors and visitors happened quite frequently. But that wasn't what the _Daily Prophet_ and the Ministry was up in arms over, oh no. It was the fact that the Centaurs seemed to have come into possession strange new artifacts and weapons, specifically a new spear that emitted a blade of light identical to the hated and feared 'lightsaber' that Potter had used during his escape from Hogwarts.

If she were honest with herself, Tonks would admit to being very surprised, angry, and more than a little hurt when she heard of this news. She knew that there were things that Harry did when she wasn't around that he never told her about, but she had thought that she knew him well enough to guess just what it was he was up to. But the idea of him giving the Centaurs his new lightsaber technology had never even crossed her mind. He never spoke of any dealings with the herd, never hinted at making semi-regular trips into the forest, and certainly hadn't referenced that he was so close to Hogwarts when it was very dangerous for him to be anywhere close to the Wizarding World. To find such overwhelming evidence that he was doing all of this without telling her had struck a sensitive chord in her heart. They were friends and he certainly had no obligation to tell her anything and she was more than willing to forgive him if he apologized, but it still _hurt_.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Tonks looked around the chamber she was in. She and almost every available Auror in the Department were gathered in an auditorium that was used as a debriefing room, with a podium at the back on a raised dais and with rows of chairs lined up in front of it. There were enough chairs to seat two hundred people and every one of them was taken. This left the three hundred remaining Aurors standing along the walls and in the aisles, practically shoulder to shoulder in the cramped quarters of the room. The din of having so many people in one room was quite overwhelming and the room temperature was rapidly rising from all the body heat, Tonks had already had to cast a Cooling charm on herself when she felt the beginnings of sweat starting to collect on her body.

Slouching against the wall near the entrance doors, she crossed her arms and sighed heavily in the musty air. It was a very rare occurrence when the entire Auror Corps were called in for a debriefing like this, usually during times of war and unrest. But Tonks could already guess just what they were doing here and she knew she wasn't going to like it. There were a lot of loud conversations going on around her and all of them were focused on the recent events that had taken place. In a way, it strongly reminded her of the Hogwarts rumor mill, just much more blatant and loud. Yet, for all the noise, it wasn't _quite_ as loud as it could've been. There was a sizable chunk of the Department missing after all.

Despite the tense atmosphere that was prevailing through the room, Tonks couldn't help but to glance around the room curiously. She had noticed something odd occurring in the Department a few months ago and the mystery of it was slowly eating away at her curiosity. That being that certain members of the Auror Corps had been disappearing. It had started slowly with specific individuals leaving their duties to attend to 'personal matters at home' at regular and increasing intervals, until about three months ago they just stopped coming to work entirely. Then this strange habit had begun spreading among the Aurors until nearly fifty of them had become culpable to the phenomenon. While it wasn't necessarily something that could be investigated without a justifiable reason, Tonks found it very interesting to note that many, nearly _all_ in point of fact, of the people missing were Purebloods with known opinions of bias against Muggleborns.

Though she and Kingsley had reported it to Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix, like the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, were unable to find any leads or evidence to suggest anything nefarious had happened. It was like the fifty missing Aurors had just packed up and left Great Britain entirely. Was Voldemort to blame? Possibly, but there was no discernable reasoning for the strange actions of the Aurors beforehand. And killing outspoken, proud, and very pro-Ministry Purebloods went against his typical mode of recruitment and operation.

Though it was an admittedly vain reason, Tonks had first become aware of this strange situation five months ago. As a young, beautiful, and skilled Auror and (most importantly in some circles) Metamorphmagus, Tonks had quite a few of interested parties who wanted to get 'acquainted' with her. As she told Harry a few days ago, most of those involved wanted her for some pretty X-rated activities and a lot of them were pretty relentless in their pursuit of her. One of the most determined and outspoken of those was an Auror named Benedict Novik, some ten years her senior. His absence had been the first clue because, on a typical day, she literally couldn't go a full day of work without him making at least three passes at her. In a way, it was very flattering that she was so desirable to so many. Of course, having grown accustomed to this behavior all of her Hogwarts career, it was also extremely annoying at the best of times. Though she wasn't concerned for his well-being, his ongoing absence was starting to really get to her.

"Quiet down you lot," a familiar Sonorous-enhanced voice called out through the din. Instantly the attentions of the 500 Aurors presently available were drawn to podium where Madam Bones and Minister Fudge were standing, the former with a wand to her throat. "Quiet down, so we can get started on this emergency meeting the Minister has called." There was no hiding the unhappy and demanding glance that her boss shot at Fudge, clearly also wanting to know the reason for this meeting.

As the gathered Aurors quieted and settled down, Fudge took center stage as Bones stepped aside and lowered her wand. "Thank you, Madam Bones. Now, the reason for this meeting is quite simple. As I'm no doubt sure you're aware, there's been a vicious and unprovoked attacked in the Forbidden Forest by the Centaurs on some of our personnel."

There was a wave of murmuring and nodding heads among the collected magical policemen. That news was the chief subject they'd been speaking of moments ago after all. "What you may have also heard are rumors of those creatures also using a terrible new weapon… This is a _fact_."

He snapped out the last word as though trying to drive home a point and appearing decisive. To Tonks, he looked like a childish fool about to throw a tantrum. "And this weapon has only ever been seen once before…in the hands of the _youngest criminal_ in our _entire_ history! You know what this tells me? That he's allied the Centaurs to his _cause_ and plans to make a move against us! He is giving them _deadly new weapons_ and powers, trying to build up an _army_. He wants to _overthrow the Ministry!_ And what will their first target be? Why the _closest_ and _easiest_ one within reach: _HOGWARTS!_"

When Fudge paused in his speech, there was a sudden burst of conversation among the crowd as numerous heads leaned over towards one another. Tonks, for her part, could only stare at the Minister in open-mouthed surprise. How could the Minister have come to these conclusions? He couldn't have known the Centaurs' plans or what Harry was doing at the moment. He was too busy trying to vilify everything about the boy and his mentor, Dumbledore. There have been no attacks, no demands of surrender or promises of conflict. In fact, except for the incident itself, there hadn't even been any true contact with the Centaurs for several decades. How could he know what they wanted to accomplish with these new…light-spears? Light-pikes? Light-javelins? Yeah, lightpikes sounded much better.

"We are not going to give them the chance to attack our beloved school!" Fudge cried out, ignoring Bones' quiet questions and request for a private conversation. He would not be swayed from his choice! "We will strike first! We will enter their village, take any and all _contraband_ items, and we will send any that resist to Azkaban! They will learn to never again interfere with the affairs of any Witch or Wizard for the rest of time!" Though Madam Bones tried to object, there was a sudden cry of approval from many of the gathered Aurors in response to what was blatantly the Minister's declaration of war on the Centaurs.

As Tonks was trying to figure out if the Minister had a good point about protecting the school by attacking preemptively, she felt a sudden tickle of suggestion across her Occlumency barrier. Though the art helped her immensely with using and controlling her Metamorphmagus abilities, Tonks was not a skilled practitioner of the mental arts by any means. The best she could do was create a passive barrier that protected her surface thoughts and emotion, but even a relatively weak Legilimency probe would be enough to penetrate it. But the fact that she did have this very rare skill is what immediately jolted her from her contemplations of the Minister's words and desired action.

Looking around her, Tonks saw that there was an almost universal approval and agreement on the faces of the many Aurors around her. Returning her gaze upon the dais, she blinked in surprise and then rising anger as she watched Madam Bones' face begin shifted from concerned and a disapproving frown to contemplation to finally accepting and even approving. '_Fudge is using some kind of Legilimency aura to influence everyone into agreeing with his plan! This is SO illegal, it's not even funny!_'

Then she glared at the man himself, who was now extending his speech into an increasingly long one, probably to further increase the power of his influence over those gathered. But, to her critical observation, the man didn't seem to be actually casting or maintaining the mental spell over the mass. In fact, she was practically certain that the man didn't even have to skill or power to use or maintain any of the mental arts magic at all. '_So someone **else** must be helping him from behind the scenes. But **who** and **why?**_'

Unfortunately, Tonks could do nothing but smile and nod her head in apparent agreement along her hypnotized comrades at the various exclaimed points of argument that Fudge was making. Any type of use of magic from her in locating the mystery helper or helpers would likely result in consequences she wasn't likely ready to deal with right now…or ever, really.

* * *

(**Author's Note**)

Alliances have been made. Sides have been chosen. Each side preparing for a fight that they are both equally confident of winning, battle plans and weaponry are being primed. Manipulations and forbidden magic being used left, right, and center to enforce the desired outcome. There is a storm coming. But what will be the spark that ignites the powder keg?

For those who are feeling creative, I've got something of a request for you readers. If you've got any particular ideas for possible weapons and technology the Lycans could've brought over from MagiTech, feel free to share them! I'll of course give credit where credit is due. But please, nothing too outrageous. Remember, MagiTech has only really just gotten started on expanding into the military applications, so a lot of their stuff is going to be experimental and limited. But I'm more than willing to consider them if you suggest them.

For those who are curious, I'm using the map of Hogwarts &amp; Environs provided by 'THE HARRY POTTER LEXICON' in this particular story. That should give you a fairly comprehensive picture of the battlefield's layout.

www hp-lexicon org /atlas/hogwarts/atlas-h-large-map html


	19. The Centaur War Begins

**The Lightsaber**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#19: The Centaur War Begins…_

**Forbidden Forest  
April 8, 1996**

Harry watched as the last of seven large cargo ships lifted off and flew off towards the horizon, quickly fading from view as their invisibility shields activated. It wasn't until the last ship disappeared that he let out a sigh of relief. Though he hadn't liked it, Bane had ultimately made the best choice he could to keep his people's future safe and sent all the noncombatants away to Centre Point. If nothing else, this trip would give the young children a glimpse at the world outside the forest, something could be quite invaluable for the Centaurs later on.

Shaking his head, Harry turned and boarded the hurriedly refitted _Warlock_. The ship was now bristling with weaponry, including two large plasma cannons, six bullet-fed machine-guns, three plasma gatling guns, and four rocket launchers. It was meant to be the 'alliance's base of operation and their ace-in-the-hole if things went really bad. Walking up the ramp, he passed by several Lycans and Centaurs who were donning some of the new combat gear and examining some of the new weapons and technological gadgets. Despite himself, he couldn't stop the slight smile as he watched several of the Centaurs' visible astonishment and awe at the new holographic wrist-mounted communications. Even in the Muggle World, those were also hot-selling items that inspired equal awe among the customers and civilians.

Passing by those warriors, Harry made his way to the center of the former cargo area, now converted into a command center with a holographic map in its center. Coming up to it, he said, "The last transport's away. Now it's up to us."

"This fight is going to be so one-sided, it's gonna be boring," Sirius said from where he stood on the opposite side of the hologram. "I mean, really, what chance do any of the Wizards have against us? No standard Auror tactic, no Hitwizard spell salvo, or even a sneak attack with work on us. Our shields can repel most magic and the Centaurs can cut them to pieces if they manage to penetrate them regardless."

"But we don't know exactly what lengths they're willing to go to win," Hendrick pointed out. "Never underestimate your foe, Mr. Black. That's your first mistake in any battle."

"And the Ministry knows about some of our new weapons," Magorian said, having to crouch down slightly because of his unusually tall height for a Centaur. "They will probably change their tactics to try and account for them."

At that moment, a hologram of one of the Lycan scouts replaced the forest map. The image showed the Lycan crouched behind and beside a wall, holding his wrist up to face to speak quietly into it. "_The Wizards have arrived in Hogsmeade. I count several hundred of them, at least. I think they might've brought the entirety of the Aurors and Hitwizards to march on the village_."

"How far out are they?" Hendrick asked immediately. "Any guesses to how long it'll take them to reach the Forest?"

"_At the speed they're walking, I'd say an hour at—wait, they sent out flyers!_" the Lycan hissed, looking up and around the building side. "_I'm counting…ten to twenty on brooms! And they're flying bloody fast!_"

"A scouting patrol," Hendrick said, grimly. Turning to the side, he called out, "Fire up the HWP and prepare for a scouting skirmish!"

"Yes sir!" three Lycans replied as they quickly moved over to a series of computers, screens, and control panels.

As Hendrick was busy organizing the defense and Bane left to prepare his people for the start of the battle, Sirius turned back to the Lycan scout and said, "Keep low and keep watching. Try to figure out what Fudge intends to do if any of the scouts return. If you're discovered, get out of there and back to the Warlock as quickly as you can."

"_Yes sir! Out!_" the transmission ended with that.

Looking over at his godson, the corporate business, convicted felon, and now leader of a paramilitary alliance, Sirius suddenly felt far older than he really was. For a moment, he seriously envied his godson's seeming cool demeanor and calmness in the face of a budding all-out war. "The war really has begun now. I hope you're ready to do what needs to be done, Harry."

Harry looked over at his godfather with a solemn expression. "I am. I won't like it, but I'll do it nonetheless because no one else is willing to do it."

Sirius just nodded as he turned back to the hologram map, watching as a cluster of fast-moving red icons neared the Forest's boundaries.

* * *

Tightening his utility belt, Dudley turned to the side as he watched a burst of activity suddenly ignite inside the _Warlock_. He was standing outside his beloved ship, next to a series of emptied crates and cargo containers that were now used as makeshift tables. Around him, a crowd of Lycans and Centaurs alike were also gearing up for the coming battle. The expressions on the warriors' faces was equally solemn, grim, and determined. There were a few here and there who were trying to crack jokes to lighten the mood, but weren't very successful at all.

Dudley himself was feeling an incredible weight of fear, excitement, anxiety, and resigned acceptance. The fear and anxiety were things that he hadn't yet had a chance to really feel before. Unlike the little scuffle he had been in with Harry and Mr. Lupin all those months ago, this fight wasn't a spontaneous affair that he just reacted to. No, the buildup of the tension, the realization of the genuine possibility that he, Harry, and many others he knew here could and likely would die, and the terror of knowing that he'd likely be unable to prevent any of those deaths. All of this was eating away at his nerves and pressing down on him with a near-physical weight that left him almost hyperventilating. But he forced himself to continue preparing his equipment and weaponry, trying futilely to keep his mind off the inevitable that was obviously now starting.

He was dressed from neck to toe in a soft but conforming green jumpsuit. The jumpsuit was an experimental type of underarmor meant for soldiers, capable of regulating body temperatures during exertion using a system of internal micro-piping and fluids that he didn't really care to remember. Over that jumpsuit was a layer of composite armor for his torso, knee and elbow pads, and forearm armor with several small mounted weapons and a gadgets. Picking up a large book bag of a type like he'd worn for school, he smiled somewhat mischievously as he pulled it on and securely buckled it to his chestplate. He knew he was going to have a _blast_ the first time he fired that backpack up.

Reaching over to grab the last piece of his armor, a suddenly vibrating roar sprung to life from the largest cargo container. The top was knocked open as from within arose a large black vehicle that was absolutely bristling with weaponry, two glowing red cameras and other optical sensors were gazing around on its metallic 'face' as if it were alive and trying to get its bearings. After a moment, it continued rising into the air, turning and flying off as it cleared the forest canopy.

"The HWP is away," one of the Lycans said, watching as the Heavy Weapons Platform disappeared over the treetops. "The Wizards must be on the move now."

"Alright, people!" one of the Lycan commanders called. "Finish up and get to your assigned positions! Move it double-time!"

"Come on, Dudley," said the Lycan next to him, George Hudson, a thirty-year-old with wild black hair. "Time to go."

Donning his helmet, which was little more than a converted and enhanced paintball mask, Dudley nodded, forcing his spike of tension and anxiety to the back of his mind again. "Right, on my way!"

* * *

(**Author's Note**) I am so sorry about the long wait and the ridiculously short chapter. These are due to several problems and changes that have occurred in my life recently. Namely, relocating from Montana to Tennessee, getting used to a new job and its obscene work hours (10+ hrs for 4-6 days, ouch!), and now searching for a new apartment. Yeah, my motivation for this story is very, very low right now. Which is unfair because my drive for my new _Star Wars_ story is still quite high.

Regardless, I'm hoping to start getting new chapters out with more regularity in the near-future. I get the feeling most of these coming ones are going to short pieces, like this one. Please bear with me while I work this stuff out and get back into the flow again.


	20. First Contact

**The Lightsaber**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#20: First Contact_

**Forbidden Forest  
April 8, 1996**

The eerie silence of the Forbidden Forest was broken by a strange, deafening thrumming sound. The collection of twenty Aurors on broomsticks, whose job had been to scout out the Centaur village and search for any potential ambushes and unknown dangers, had quickly noticed this strange noise as they neared the edge of the forest that bordered Hogwarts and were starting to spread out to begin their search patterns. This noise quickly drew them up short, uncertain what it was. Uncertainty in the Wizarding World was something akin to a prelude to a disaster, a calm before the storm, because it means that something mysterious and usually bad is about to happen or appear.

Just as the Auror captain was about to issue orders to his scouts to locate the source of the noise that actually sounded forebodingly similar to a Muggle aeroplane-craft (which had absolutely _no_ business being in the Forbidden Forest!), a dark shape rose up over the trees just ahead them. The black thing was about a hundred meters away and very strangely shaped, almost insectoid with a flat face that had six glowing red eyes. Set into its jaw were a five distinctive 'fangs' that were arrayed quite unnaturally, four of them were paired together and pointed to opposing sides almost like whiskers while the remaining one pointed low and forward. Nestled under and slightly behind its face, there was a large cluster of some funnels and tubes that none of the purebloods or even halfbloods recognized. What was this thing and why was it coming straight at them?

Barking out orders, the Captain quickly decided to deal with this metallic creature the same way Wizards have always dealt with the new and unusual: kill it and send to the Unspeakable to be dissected at a later date. That being the case, the Aurors were fast to spread out, hoping to surround and bludgeon the thing with spell barrages. The creature, hissing and growling from the large glowing thing in its underbelly, drew to a stop with surprising ease and grace as the smaller, faster, and more numerous Wizards started circling it. Eventually, inevitably, the first spell was thrown. While the aim was true and the power of the spell was respectable, the creature suffered no noticeable damage as the spell hit a translucent, blue glowing sphere that had sprung to life around it.

While the Wizards were gawking in surprise and disbelief, the creature took that attack as the signal to retaliate. Those strangely angled fangs swung and moved into new positions and opened fire with loud cracking pops of machinegun fire. The surprise and fast response of this type of retaliation caught the Wizards flatfooted for a few moments too long, which had deadly results as six of them were hit by the bullets, two of them falling to their deaths and three killed outright from the shots.

Scared and angry, the Wizards reorganized and kept flying, trying to stay out of the guns' fields of fire. This was made even more difficult since the machineguns were mounted into swivels for higher arcs of fire and the creature was able to spin and rotate almost on a needle, tracking its targets relatively easily. Three of the Aurors collected together and unleashed a large wave of fire upon the thing. Though the fire was able to bypass that infuriating glowing shield, it did next to no damage beyond blackening the hull.

After they did that, the thing turned towards them. But rather than fire its guns at them, the funnels and tubes underneath its body burst to life. A series of small rockets shot forward at incredible speeds, several of them striking the Wizards before they could react and detonating explosively. Continuing its spin as the flames and corpses and body remains of the trio fell from the sky, more of those little rockets shot out, most missing their intended targets as the Wizards frantically tried to evade, most of the rockets were hitting the forest and trees with equal destructive force. In this chaos, the original twenty scouts that Minister Fudge had sent ahead were very quickly reduced to five in less than three minutes of fighting.

It wasn't until one of the Wizards suddenly got an idea that the battle took a decisive turn. Seeing how none of their spells could get through its shield, and yet its own physical weapons could do so, the Wizard had conjured and launched a large boulder straight at the beast. The boulder struck true, hitting it just behind the face, crushing the delicate electronic components contained therein and almost ripping it in two pieces. The thing went into a wild spin, all of its weapons firing uncontrollably as it tumbled out of the sky. Upon crashing to the forest floor, its own store of rockets, ammunition, and fuel backfired and sent the entire thing up in explosive flames, the explosion easily heard for miles around.

Sighing heavily, the surviving members of the scouts looked around one another before quickly turning tail and rushing back to Hogsmeade. If that was just a taste of what those damn horses had in store for them, they were woefully underequipped and dangerously outclassed. Regardless, the Minister and the Department Head would need to be informed of the situation as quickly as possible.

* * *

**Hogwarts**

"It's over…for now," Ron said, his eyes closed as he faced out towards the Forbidden Forest.

"That was…short," Hermione admitted, both surprised and worried. "I can't believe they were defeated so easily! Surely, with their weaponry, the magical technology should've held on for longer than this."

"What did you expect?" Draco asked from where he stood off to the side. "Magic will _always_ triumph over _technology_."

Hermione glared at the Malfoy in annoyance but refused to reply, instead looking back towards Hogsmeade village. The three of them stood upon the balconies of the Seventh Floor of the North Tower, which had offered a perfect view of the battle that was taking place mere moments ago. And they weren't the only ones there. A large collection of students was gathering up there as well, attracted by the loud blasts of explosions and the battle as a whole, most of them being members of the 'secret society' against Umbridge that Hermione had created months ago out of the remains of the abandoned Defense Association.

"That's not what I saw, Draco," Ron remarked dryly, staring the Malfoy heir with a look of immense dislike. "I saw that black buzzard easily smashing through the Aurors and it would've won if it hadn't been for a lucky shot."

Draco snorted but made no other reply. Ever since he had come to the realization that he owed Ron a life debt, a true and genuine debt, he had struggled to come to terms with that fact ever since. Nowadays, he mostly just tried to ignore the Weasley boy as best he could, though he did make an effort to no longer try to pointlessly provoke a fight with him. Granted, this was also because he didn't want to accidentally reveal a few things about Ron and, by extension, himself, such as them being Sorcerers. But old habits tended to die hard.

"What's going on out there?" one of the younger students asked fearfully. "It's like war zone out there!"

"That's because it _is!_" someone else answered.

"Then, who's fighting who and why?"

"Those are some good questions," Hermione muttered, her mind abuzz with dozens of potential answers. But the most likely ones involved were Harry and Sirius's branch of their MagiTech project and the Ministry of Magic. If so, what had drawn them all the way up here in Scotland, so far from the Ministry and whenever Harry had set his base of operations? Why were they fighting now? And who else was or would get involved? And she knew that Harry was here, in the Forest out there beyond. Ron had sensed his arrival earlier and informed her. She really wished she could've gone out there to speak with her long lost friend, to catch up on what he's been doing and to show him all of what they'd built and accomplished in Hogwarts since his departure. But she wasn't foolish enough to enter a battlefield of this magnitude.

Seeing Ron beginning to lean forward as his hand dug into his pocket where he usually hid his lightsaber, Hermione reached over and firmly grabbed ahold of his shoulder, holding him in place as best she could. He glanced over at her in askance for a second before sighing and leaning back, trying to relax. Ron might've gotten a lot of new powers and abilities since becoming a Sorcerer, but he was still a hotheaded and impulsive teenager. If he really wanted to jump out there into the thick of the fighting to join his lost friend, Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to truly stop him. In fact, truth be told, she'd probably join him after only a few minutes…or seconds, depending on the situation.

Catching the byplay out of the corner of his eye, Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. The pigheaded 'nobility' of Weasley and Granger's inability to not get involved were probably going to cause them some problems before this crisis was over. And he already knew that he wasn't going to enjoy it, whatever happened.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Eh, like I said, a small update. But I figured something was better than none. Hopefully the next one will feature the first actual clash, if only the first few scenes of it. I hope you all enjoyed this little piece!

The HWP (Heavy Weapons Platform) is basically the HMP (Heavy Missile Platform) Droid Gunship from Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Season V. I just really liked that design for some reason.


	21. The Horrors of War

**The Lightsaber**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#21: The Horrors of War_

**Forbidden Forest**

He was having trouble breathing, trouble seeing, trouble gripping his blaster rifle, and even trouble just lying still on his stomach upon the raised rock outcropping he and George were hidden upon. Below them was a long line of cloaked people holding out their wands as they marched in a loose line into the dark forest around and ahead of them. The normal, unsettling silence of the Forbidden Forest was now being loudly broken by the intruding march of a line of war-hungry witches and wizards.

Dudley knew that the wizards couldn't see or detect him or any of the hiding Lycans. One of the special magical charms that had been worked into the suit was a small ward-like camouflage barrier. It essentially allowed the wearer of the suit to blend in with the surrounding landscape and thus be rendered practically invisible to the naked eye, various technological scanners and cameras, and most types of magical location spells, so long as the person remained completely still. But, like with most of the magical technology experiments that were being field tested, there were a lot of problems that still needed to be worked out. Such as the colossal drain on the Rune Drive that was used to power the camouflage barrier, the same one he wore on his back. Glancing for the umpteenth time at the small computer screen on his right gauntlet, closely monitoring his depleting power supply, he grimaced. If he held this barrier for much longer, he wouldn't have enough power left for any of the other little surprises he had packed away.

A hand on his shoulder caused Dudley to glance jerkily over at George. The dark haired Lycan was dressed in a similar suit as Dudley, just without the helmet as it'd impede his transformed state if he tried to. The look in the Lycan's eye was that of repressed eagerness, but also a certain calmness. After just a few moments of staring, Dudley suddenly understood. George's animalistic instincts were riding high, probably seeing this ambush as a great hunt with his pack. So, Dudley's fraying nerves were probably playing havoc with his own discipline and urge to fight. Taking a calming breath, Dudley nodded to him and turned his attention back to his rifle's scope.

"WIZARDS!" a Sonorous-enhanced voice cried out, echoing through the silent forest. "_HALT!_"

"Who's there?!" someone from the Wizards' column shouted back after just a second.

"YOU CAN CALL US 'LYCANS'," the first speaker said. "WE ARE ALLIES OF THE CENTAURS! TURN BACK NOW AND YOU WILL WALK AWAY WITH YOUR LIVES!"

"We do not _barter, trade_, or _reason_ _with_ Dark Creatures, Dark Wizards, or _cowards_ who refuse to show their faces!" the Wizards' spokesman replied, clearly self-righteous and angry. "We'll give _you_ one chance to leave and not interfere with our operation, '_Lycan_'!"

"SO BE IT!" There was a certain amount of resigned acceptance in the Lycan's voice, all of them present had predicted such a response. "_LYCANS! ATTACK!_"

Rising up into a kneeling crouch, George swung his heavy cannon around and opened fire into the center of the gaggle of magicals. Throughout the forest, all along the trail that the Wizards had been using, many more Lycans and Centaurs also sprung from their own hiding places and opened fire. A literal shower of various sized plasma blasts rained down into the Wizards formation. Many dozens of men and women were felled in that opening volley alone.

Some were hit by numerous bolts in different areas of their body. Some were thrown clear to the ground by large bowcaster bolts burning huge holes in their bodies. Some were caught within the general vicinity of heavy cannons like what George was using and were knocked back or blown completely apart in a shower of guts, blood, and limbs. The Wizards reacted by launching spells, curses, and hexes into the forest at random directions with next to no coordination with one another. The key issue with the Wizards was that they each had a mentality of 'every man for himself', something that had suited them well in their games of politics and backstabbing. But with those down there, it was showing to be a crippling weakness.

Dudley managed to squeeze off a couple of shots, hitting several of the Wizards in where he _hoped_ were non-vital areas. But the incredible carnage that was taking place below him quickly caused him to lose focus and falter, staring in horror and with wide eyes at what he was seeing. He had always thought that being in a battle would be incredibly glorious and even quite a bit of fun, but that was not what he was seeing. It was bloody, horrible, stomach-churning, and unending. He consciously knew that he was slipping into a state of shock, but he couldn't do anything about it.

Through his rifle's scope, Dudley found his sight fixated on one particular wizard. He was an admittedly handsome-looking fellow who couldn't have been more than two years out of school and blatantly obviously just a junior member of the magical policemen. Dudley watched as the wizard hurried over to one of his companions, coincidentally one who Dudley had shot himself. The wounded one been shot in the torso and was lying on the ground in a mass of billowing robes, shredded flesh, and blood. The wizard rushed to his companion's side and knelt to render assistance.

A torn, bloody hand lifted toward the would-be rescuer, who was clearly fumbling to remember the correct magical incantations and wave-movements to heal his friend. His friend pressed his hand up against the young Wizard's face, drawing his attention. In that moment, the light faded from his eyes and the body went limp. No, that wasn't _supposed_ to be lethal shot! Dudley had been _sure_ that his target wizard wouldn't die from a shot to that spot! With a sinking realization, Dudley realized he'd just _killed_ someone for the first time. After a moment of horrified comprehension, he found his gaze locked back onto the wizard he'd been following. He had to wonder if the two had known each other very long or well. Had they trained together? Shared meals, stories, experiences together? Well, they definitely had shared death together.

Combat was not at all like the would-be rescuer and watching sniper had envisioned it.

There was no assistance to be rendered here, the still-living wizard clearly realized. Straightening, he surveyed the hell in which he found himself. His wand hung in his hand, useless and unused. He stumbled off, away from his dead comrade and that exposed, pale, pleading hand. As madness ebbed and surged around him, he wandered through the carnage, clearly in a state of shock and incomprehension. It was a feeling Dudley could wholly understand, he felt as though he were watching a historical drama instead of an actual battle. The horrific and all-too-common red stains on the ground, blood puddles surrounding bodies or dismembered limbs, the cratered and burning earth, contradicted his denial. This wasn't like his training at all, the same thought running through both their minds endlessly, numbly.

Then, like a marionette with its strings cut, the wizard jolted as a blue bolt struck him in his gut and he collapsed to the ground, dying almost as soon as he hit. Dudley could only stare, feeling morbidly glad it wasn't him who'd shot the terrified and dumbfounded wizard, and also feeling a great deal of sadness for the poor young man's untimely and unfair death in such a manner. He still had so much to live for, but not anymore.

Next to him, George wasn't bothered by the carnage as Dudley was. He continued to fire down ruthlessly at the Wizards below. Once he felt that their ranks had been suitably thinned, he set his steaming cannon aside and leapt forward. Landing in the blooded mess he'd helped to create below, he quickly shifted into his Lycan form and let out a furious war-cry before he attacked with a flurry of claws, teeth, and powerful muscles. All around him, Wizards and Witches cried out in alarm and panic, trying to coordinate and retaliate against the unexpected ambush. Now those same screams were turning more into panicked cries of monsters and to retreat.

The sudden arrival of several more transformed Lycans was the final straw and the many surviving Wizards turned tail and fled as fast their bodies could carry them. They had come prepared to combat and subdue Centaurs, not impossibly-transformed Werewolves in the middle of the day. The fighting Lycans didn't try to chase them down, merely roaring threateningly as the Centaurs hurried into the massacre to start dealing out mercy kills to those dying.

Seeing the massacre finally end, Dudley pulled off his helmet and turned away, emptying his stomach of its contents. In his mind, images of the massacre (both real and not) began replaying constantly with unerring clarity. The screams, the blood, the death. Dudley knew then and there that those images and sounds would never leave his memory for the rest of his life. He knew he'd be revisiting this two-minute massacre countless times for years, if not decades, to come in his dreams alone.

Moaning piteously, Dudley spit out the remainder of his vomit from his mouth and wiped his lips. Taking up his helmet again, he looked at it for a long moment. Did he really want to put it back on again? Looking down at the carnage below, he tried to find a viable reason to do so. Down there, there must've been at least sixty reasons, if not _more_, for why he shouldn't put it back on!

"Try not to dwell on it," George said from beside him, having returned at some point when Dudley was distracted. Kneeling down next to the boy, he was rubbing Dudley's back in soothing motions as he looked at him with pity but also understanding. "They may not have deserved what they got here just now, but what they were going to do to the Centaurs would've been far worse… Remember that."

"How do you…make it seem so easy?" Dudley asked. Unsure if he meant the actual _killing_, not letting it _affect_ him, or to just _continue_ to carry on killing once it's started. Unsure if he really wanted to _know_.

"Experience, mostly," George admitted sadly. "Do it enough times, you start to become immune to it. But don't _ever_ start to _enjoy_ doing it! That's when you _truly_ let the monster take hold and you _become_ the beast they fear you as."

Though he was clearly referencing his time as an uncontrollable monster, Dudley still understood just what George was trying to say and nodded slowly, uncertainly. Seeing his acknowledgement of his point. George patted him encouragingly on his shoulder before standing up and grabbing his discarded blaster cannon. "If you're up for it, Hendricks wants us to move farther down the trail to set up a new site, just in case the Wizards decide to try making another run down the same trail."

"_Why_ the bloody fuck would they _want_ to do _that?!_" Dudley couldn't help asking, not comprehending why anyone would willingly travel back towards where they knew the enemy was and where they'd already suffered a great loss.

"Because Wizards are illogical idiots with no head for strategy or tactics," George said bluntly, hefting the heavy cannon up almost carelessly upon his shoulder as though it weighed little more than a few grams. Turning, he again dropped down off the rock outcropping they were on and started making his way down the trail.

After watching his partner walk away, Dudley returned his gaze back to his helmet that was still in his hands. With a heavy sigh, he lifted it and pulled it on once again.

* * *

**Hogsmeade**

"_What do you mean it was a __**massacre**__?!_" Fudge yelled, furious and scared. "_What happened?!_ _Who attacked you? Was it the Centaurs?! How could a bunch of beasts kill so many and send the rest of you back in a panic?!_"

"It wasn't so much the Centaurs that attacked us, Minister," the Auror answered. There was a clear look of shock, horror, and fear in his expression. He was having a hard time standing still, constantly twitching and keeping a hard grip on his wand.

There was a strange bleeding wound on his shoulder that looked like a small puncture wound, his robes soaked in blood around it. Normally, this Wizard would've been taken to the hospital to have his wound checked up and healed. But with the abrupt return of the Auror army and the many dozens of wounded among their number, the small local hospital in Hogsmeade was already overflowing. Despite its renown, St Mungo's was a small institution with limited staff and space available at any one time. This was due in part because with magic, most Wizards and Witches could heal themselves with minimal effort or fuss. It was only the rare, complicated cases that only professionals skilled in healing that were taken to St Mungo's. Alas, the major Magical Britain hospital also pretty full as well and many of the wounded Aurors had been turned away at the gates as a result.

"Then who was it?" Bones asked, using a calm but stern voice. "Dark Wizards, foreign Wizards, Muggles, Death Eater-wannabes…Harry Potter?"

"It was the Werewolves!" the Auror answered, flinching at the memories and the sudden looks of confusion and anger in his superiors.

"Werewolves?" Headmistress Umbridge repeated, clear derision and disbelief in her tone. "Werewolves? Did you get hit by a Confundus Curse in there? How could you possibly know it was Werewolves who—?"

"_BECAUSE THEY ATTACKED US—__**TRANSFORMED**__—WHEN WE STARTED GETTING CLOSE!_" the Auror yelled. "_They came out of the trees, blasting some kind of blue spells at us that we couldn't shield against, blowing up the earth and us like they were using Explosive Curses, and started tearing us apart with their claws!_"

"The Werewolves were transformed in broad daylight?!" the Head Unspeakable asked, sounding both horrified and deeply intrigued. The grey robed and hooded Wizard ignored the stares he earned from his companions. "We had always wondered if such a thing were possible, to transform in daylight. I wonder how they managed such a feat. A potion? Some kind of uniquely created Charm or magical artifact?"

"Lycans," the Auror said quietly, again earning his superiors' attentions. "They called themselves 'Lycans' before they attacked. Said they were allies of the Centaurs."

"Lycans? What's that? Some kind of new Pack name?" Bones wondered aloud, her mind puzzling through these many strange new revelations they'd just discovered. What was going on here, in that forest? Could this all somehow be connected to Fudge's belief that the Centaurs were part of a Dark Army that Potter was building to attack their world? If so…it suddenly became much, _much_ more important that they subdue this uprising _now_ before it gained anymore momentum.

"Send the Aurors back in!" Fudge barked angrily, fearfully. "And keep sending them in until they crush these beasts! They can't overwhelm us! We outnumber them too much!"

"No, that is a bad idea!" Bones said sternly, ignoring Umbridge's dirt glare as she looked at the Minister. "We have no idea just how many Were—Lycans are in there helping the Centaurs. We don't know the limits of these new magics they are using or how this apparent daytime-transformation affects them. To go charging in now would be reckless and foolhardy in the extreme, Minister."

"But we can't let this _disgrace_ go _unchallenged!_" Umbridge said forcefully. "To do so would give the hint that we are _weak_ and _willing_ to allow them to _walk all over us!_ No, we _must_ strike again and _harder_ than before! Remember _what_ you're fighting for! My _dear students_ are in _danger!_" Not for a second did Bones or the Head Unspeakable believe she was concerned for the Hogwarts students.

"I did not say that we _shouldn't_ strike back," Bones said, gritting her teeth together in aggravation. How she despised this woman! "Only that we be smart about it. They have caught us by surprise once, what's to say that they can't do it again and with greater success? No, if we strike again, we must be smart about it."

"Use the Giants," Gerard Bloomington, Head of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, said in a small but determined voice. In an instant, the rest of the council turned to look at him with curious, shocked, and scared expressions on their faces. "It's the best resource we have available. They are strong and resistant to magic, even more so than Dragons. Allow me to send a few representatives to the nearest tribe and talk the Gurg into bringing some here. I'm sure that we can get a few to listen to us."

"_**Are you mad?!**_" Umbridge shrieked, terror at the thought plainly visible on her face. "_They are __**wild beasts**__ who would sooner __**tear you apart**__ than look at you! And you to bring them __**here?!**__ Where they could do untold amounts of damage to __**not only**__ Hogwarts but __**Hogsmeade as well?!**_"

"Remember what we're fighting against, Headmistress," Gerard said, looking levelly at the woman. "The Centaurs have new weapons. They have allied themselves with a clearly powerful new Pack of Werewolves, who also apparently have the same or similar weapons. These new Lycans can transform in daytime. And the Centaurs know the Forbidden Forest better than one else. The Aurors are hopelessly outmatched. Even just one Giant would suffice give us a massive and much needed advantage."

There was a long moment of silence following Gerard's astute summary of their position. Despite herself, Bones couldn't help but say, "I agree with Gerard. We have to gain control of this situation and fast. And, as he's pointed out, Giants are indeed our best resource."

Fudge was almost ghost-white pale at the thought of bringing even just one Giant into the area. The tales of the devastation that Giants had wrought on their ancestors no doubt playing out in his mind as tried to find a justifiable reason to not agree. He was tempted, so dearly tempted, to just send in his Specter Knights and be done with this whole affair. But he wanted to keep them in reserve, save them for when that damn Potter boy at last revealed himself. Finally, after clearly swallowing his fear and pride, he nodded and said, "Do it. And…be quick about it!"

Gerard nodded respectfully before he left as quickly as was politely possibly.

"I hope this isn't a mistake," Fudge said quietly after Gerard was gone. It was a sentiment that all of his advisors and the gathered Department Heads could unanimously agree with.

* * *

**Forbidden Forest**

Standing upon a rocky mound that jutted up above most of the forest, Harry looked down at the dead woodlands. But he was looking not with his eyes, which were closed, but with his mind and his magic. He could…feel it. There was something in the air. A tension, a terrible fear, an awful wrath, a bloodthirsty desire. There was no other way to describe it than that. Something was approaching… Something big and dangerous… Something that wanted to fight and kill. And this sensation was only growing stronger as the hours passed by slowly.

Following the massacre that had taken place, the Lycans had moved closer to the edge of the forest and where the Hogwarts grounds officially started. While the Lycans had hurriedly constructed a series of new fortifications along the trail, the Centaurs busied themselves by patrolling the rest of the forest to catch any spies or assassins trying to sneak into the village. The support branch of the Lycans were busying themselves by sending out small probes and surveillance drones to survey the skies above the forest and the nearby castle and village. But, excluding an occasional attempt by an ambitious or foolish opportunistic Wizard or two, things had been relatively quiet.

With the sun now dipping very low towards the horizon, Harry finally turned and mounted his Firebolt. Flying off, he headed towards where the _Warlock_ was still stationed. His travel was largely uneventful, even if he did pass by several of the patrolling drones and probes, none of them gave him any trouble. Coming in for a soft landing just outside the boarding ramp of the ship, Harry made his inside the new command center. Unlike earlier, activity inside was much less frenzied. The excitement and chaos of the slaughter had long since died down here. The triumphant Lycans had set aside their victorious spirits and humor at _finally_ dealing a large and decisive blow against their hated former oppressors. Now, with night fast approaching, the command staff were beginning to switch out with their shifts to fresh faced replacements.

Rather than heading downstairs towards the command center, Harry continued to walk up the ramp for the living area. It was much quieter and more subdued up here than downstairs, which was to be expected since this area of the _Warlock_ was Dudley's personal area, his new home in all but name. Reaching the top of the stairs, he stopped and looked to the right, at the door to Dudley's quarters. He could sense his cousin inside and the dark, turbulent emotional state he was in. Harry knew what was wrong. This was his first real battle, he'd killed, and it was leaving its mark on him. Though Harry was hardly and far from being an expert on such matters, he was familiar with putting his life on the line and being pulled/shoved into life-threatening situations.

With a sigh, he turned and headed for the door. If nothing else, perhaps he could be a willing ear for his cousin to vent all his emotions on and, if need be, a body to strike out against if things became aggressive. Harry remembered his own outburst in Dumbledore's office last year and the almost-therapeutic relaxation it'd given afterwards (excluding the guilt of destroying the Headmaster's things).

* * *

(**Author's Note**) I'm sorry about the long delay. I had a serious bit of writer's block on this particular chapter and then I just procrastinated like hell until I finally sat down and wrote it today. I still don't know how long this battle is going to take to write out, but let's just say that the next chapter will probably come out a few deal sooner since it's got some stuff in it I've **_REALLY_ **wanted to get to!

For this particular chapter, I had wanted to show the horrors of war and since Dudley was still very much a newbie, he got roped into it. I'll admit it, I kinda chickened out on the Dudley-consoling thing at the end but I felt it was unnecessary to the overall story. It was there, it needed to be done, and Harry and several others have been doing it, even if I haven't bothered to show it. He will still be bothered by it, but it's no longer going to be the focus of the chapter.

That being said, what did you guys make this 'battle'. I somewhat enjoyed it, but I feel that it's still missing something. Hm... Anyway, the first battle goes to the Centaurs and Lycans, who are wallowing in the victorious afterglow. And yet the Wizards are now going to try bringing in the 'big guns'. Not to give away any details, but there's going to be _quite a few_ victims in the next battle.


	22. Second Battle of the Forest

**The Lightsaber**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#22: Second Battle of the Forest_

**Forbidden Forest  
****April 9, 1996  
****The Next Day…**

The day started out cold and misty, winds blowing in cold air off the North Sea. The skies were overcast with cloud cover, only brief patches of sunlight being able to break through the clouds above. Yet it was close to impossible for the defenders in the forest to notice, since the forest was in a perpetual state of darkness under its cursed canopy. It was only the varying states of the depths of the darkness revealing that night had truly passed and day was beginning again.

Harry stood upon the high rise of rock he'd found the evening prior. Reaching out with his magic, he could sense the arrival of some strange new magical presences over near Hogsmeade. Wizards, Witches, and most types of magical creatures all stood out like beacons, lighthouses easily seen on dark, calm seas. Because of this, Harry was the closest thing to an early-warning signal that the alliance had to another incursion into the forest. He could easily sense the large groups and gaggles of magical power that were the Wizards and Witches of Great Britain. He could sense where the Lycans and Centaurs had set up their new defensive position, only a bare twenty meters away from the Hogwarts grounds itself. He could sense the two brilliant presences of Sorcery that remained at Hogwarts, and the faint echo of a third one that had long since vanished. Though they somehow felt familiar, he couldn't quite place why they were so. Maybe the addition of Sorcery to their natural magical presence was what was preventing him from recognizing them?

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts of that minor mystery, Harry again focused his attention on the strange new presences he detected. They were clearly magical, yet they somehow felt…off. That was the closest he could describe what he was sensing. Magic was clearly a part of their bodies and presences, and yet it also felt somehow resistant, trying to repel all other forms of magic from interacting with them. As if their own natural magic was trying to overwhelm and overpower all other magic that was within their direct vicinity. What kind of creature could have a presence like this? And, even more troubling, he could sense at least three of them.

"Hendrick," Harry said, holding up his holo-communicator that was strapped to his wrist like a watch, a small and shimmering form of the armored Lycan Alpha appearing. "We've got trouble. I sense the arrival of three new…creatures. I think the Wizards are going to renew their assault shortly."

"Roger," Hendrick answered, nodding his head in understanding. "Anything you can tell me about these new arrivals?"

"Only that they're strong for sure," Harry said, uncertainty creeping into his tone. "Their magic feels wrong, like it's trying to dominate everything else around it, but only as long as it's in direct contact. Does that help any?"

"No," Hendrick said bluntly. "But I'll pass the word and keep the boys on alert. You going to help us out today?"

"If things go bad, I will," Harry promised earnestly. If there was one thing he disliked, it was sitting on the sidelines while others were fighting in a battle he dearly wished to be part of. It had taken all of his self-discipline to not join his cousin in the ambush against the Wizards yesterday. But, if his unease about these new creatures was accurate, he'd probably see plenty of action today. "Think of me as the last resort." Hendrick nodded again from cutting the transmission.

Turning his attention back to where he was sensing the concentration of magicals, Harry frowned as he noticed something else. He hadn't noticed it before because his attention had been directed to the magical auras themselves, trying to get an estimate of the Wizards' levels of morale. But now that he'd pulled back, just doing a basic scan, he noticed something wrong. There was a strange blank spot, a dead zone, near the highest concentration of Wizards, where he was sure The Three Broomsticks was located.

But the strange part was he knew—_knew_—that that dead zone hadn't been there yesterday!

'_What's __**that**__?_' he wondered to himself. '_I've never felt anything like that before. Could it be something that the Ministry set up? Did they figure out a way to circumvent my Sorcery?_' It was an eerie thought for him, knowing just how incredibly dependent on it he had become. Plus, they still had possession of the Ser Henry Morgan's journal, or at least Umbridge did. So the possibility was there. But how extensive had their research into it have gone?

'_They must've_,' Harry realized. Sorcery worked by drawing in the ambient magic of the surrounding world. The stronger the ambient magic is, the stronger the Sorcerer became. '_Maybe they found a way of creating a dead zone to try and choke me off the ambient magic? But if that's the case, why create such a zone in Hogsmeade? They don't know I'm __**here**__…not __**yet **__anyway_…_ Are they trying to __**hide**__ something inside it?_'

He wasn't able to dedicate more time to that train of thought as he sensed the sudden spike in activity emitting from Hogsmeade. The Wizards and their assets were on the move again.

* * *

**Shrieking Shack, Hogsmeade**

Voldemort strode into the shack, looking around at it with impassive distaste. The wood was rotting and weather-beaten, even here on the inside. The floorboards were incapable of being walked upon without emitting loud creaks of protest. There was no glass in the windows, instead they were boarded up, only letting in small patches of daylight. And the air was heavy with dust and disuse. If not for the strong magic that was holding it all together, the Dark Lord had little doubt that the miserable building would come crashing down within days.

"Such a wretched ruin, my dear," he said softly to the one being he held closest to his black heart. Floating weightlessly beside him in a starry, transparent bubble that was as much a cage as means of transportation, Nagini the baby Basilisk hissed in agreement. She was swirling and coiling with all the grace of a serpent underwater, safe in her bubble her dearly beloved master had made for her. "When I rule this great land, I think I shall burn this place to ash in celebration…after putting Potter's head up on a spike over my mantle." He and Nagini sneered at that wonderful, delicious thought.

Walking over to the nearby window, the Wizard looked between the boards and gazed out over the Black Lake towards the one place he'd only ever truly call his home. Hogwarts was just as formidable and beautiful as the first time he'd glimpsed it as a worthless orphan. Staring up at the castle once again brought back what few good memories he had as a child and student. But it also brought back many more memories that were very unhappy ones as well. Following that train of memories brought a slight smirk to his face as he remembered coming to a decision he'd made for himself in his Second Year. '_I'll be the first true Magic King of Great Britain since the days of ancient Druids before the Roman Invasion, and I'll make Hogwarts my seat of power_.'

It was this solemn vow and desperate desire that had since guided his every action in life. He wanted to be remembered for all time as the greatest of the greats. He was terrified to be live a mediocre life, to return to his life as a worthless orphan, to _die_ as a nobody with nothing, just as how he was raised. He felt that he was now closer than ever to finally achieving that dream. And he would most assuredly see his dream come true since he'd made himself nearly immortal, which was so gratifying now that he knew with utmost certainty his precautions had been sufficient.

"My Lord," Bellatrix said quietly behind him. She and a handful of other Death Eaters, the truly faithful ones that he'd recently liberated from Azkaban, had accompanied him to the Shrieking Shack. Though she suspected what they were doing here, it was best to not jump to conclusions and to wait for her master to reveal his intent. Despite not getting any response, she continued, "We have completed the preparations as you'd instructed."

"And you inscribed and measured the runic displays to perfection?" Voldemort asked without turning away from his view.

"I performed it myself, my Lord," Bellatrix confirmed resolutely. "We are ready when you are."

"Excellent," Voldemort purred approvingly. "Anything else?"

"Greyback has sent word that he's ready to make his move very shortly," Bellatrix answered, her grimace of disgust obvious in her tone as she mentioned that foul beast.

"Then let's not waste any more time," Voldemort said, finally letting a sneer cross his face fully. "Give Greyback his marching orders. I want that place destroyed _now_."

Turning around, he marched out of the room he was and headed downstairs with Bellatrix following faithfully as she spoke into an enchanted mirror. At the bottom of the stairs, he entered what might've been the dining room of the building in another life. Filling the sides of the room were eight figures, all dressed in black cloaks and wearing stylized white skull masks. The reason they stood along the walls and not in the center of the room was due to the white lines painted into the floor in a clear ritualistic style. Lying at the center of the ritual lines was a large marble bowl filled with a mixture of water and fresh unicorn blood.

At Voldemort's approach, all of the masked figures slowly approached the ritual. Kneeling down at the ten points drawn into it in perfect symmetry as their Lord, the Death Eaters all drew their wands. In one voice, they started chanting an archaic spell of considerable complexity as they pooled their magic into the runes. Instantly, the runes and ritual lines burst to life in a bright flash of white light. Almost like it was a liquid, the light stretched and connected until only the center remained untouched. Collecting at the edges, as though preparing to crest a high hill, the light of the ritual brightened considerably. Then, in a flash, the light and magic rushed into the center of the ritual and entered the marble bowl. The light became absolutely blinding for several long moments before it died down after they'd finished their chant.

Lying inconspicuously at the center of the now completed ritual, the ten dark wizards gazed at the marble bowl that had a slight bit of blue mist rising up off of it. Within the bowl itself, the water and unicorn blood had been mixed with and been altered by the cast magics to become something else. Like a window to the outside world, the dark wizards watched with interest as their new scrying bowl zeroed in on the events occurring in the forest out beyond Hogwarts Castle.

* * *

**Hagrid's Hut**

"I _can't__** believe**_they brought_**Giants**__!_" Diggle ranted, his fear and anger obvious in his voice. He, like the other six members of the Order of the Phoenix presently available, was watching the lumbering brutes through the windows with weary eyes and dread vibrating through every pore of his body. "I mean, _bloody hell_, _what_ were they thinking?! _**Were**_ they even thinking?!"

"Calm down, Dedalus," Dumbledore said in his usual passively assertive voice. "Panicking will not help matters. And, sadly, there's really nothing we can do about the situation anymore."

The other Order members all glanced at one another with deep frowns. Diggle was definitely the most vocal of the lot, but none of the others were of the mind to reprimand him. Though it was annoying, he was essentially voicing their own fears and concerns for the eldest Wizard to hear. Moody stood off to the side, beside the entrance to Hagrid's hut, watching the line of Aurors and Giants make their way towards the forest from across the Hogwarts' grounds with his magical eye. Mundungus Fletcher was cowering in the farthest corner from Moody, trying to blend in with the shadows as much as was physically possible to escape the others' notice. Hagrid was with Diggle, Elphias Doge, and Emmeline Vance, peering out one of the windows to watch the procession, talking relatively quietly amongst each other. And Dumbledore was seated at the table, genially sipping a cup of tea while also gazing out the window that was nearest to the events taking place outside.

This group of seven Wizards were all that were willing and able to arrive on the scene to witness the strange events taking place in person. The other members of the Order were either caught up in the conflict itself, like Tonks and Kingsley, or had resigned their positions in the Order for whatever reason, like the Weasley clan had largely done at this point. For his part, Dumbledore was finding himself very torn about what was happening out there and what he should be doing about it at this point.

Dumbledore suspected that the original cause of this war wasn't due to a misunderstanding or pent up rage of the Centaurs, though it was a possibility. But he also believed that the Ministry had reacted in an entirely disproportionate response to the initial clash that sparked this war and things had quickly escalated from there. _'__**Why**__ must people be so ready and willing to harm, subjugate, and kill others who would have otherwise been of no harm or danger to them beforehand?_' he wondered the umpteenth time.

Although he had lost all of his official political power, thanks in large part to Fudge's paranoia, the depredations of power-hungry opportunists like Headmistress Umbridge, and the whisperings of Death Eater influence, Dumbledore still carried a vast amount of clout among the common wizarding folk and possessed a nearly-unrivaled knowledge, power, and skill in magic. Though it'd be difficult, he knew that he could end the hostilities and this pointless conflict without further bloodshed. However, he was also something of a wanted man with a standing order to be arrested and imprisoned by the Aurors. And, though powerful and skilled as he was, he knew he could never stand up to the might of the entire Auror force alone should they decide that he was a threat that needed to be neutralized immediately rather than later, preferably _after_ this conflict was resolved. And he knew that they'd quickly be goaded into attacking him. If nothing else, he was sure Fudge and Umbridge would see to that. But all of that wasn't even touching on the subject of this conflict that he was questioning.

The details of what had started this war had been purposely smudged and vaguely understood, which was clearly the Ministry's doing. What was told by the Daily Prophet in this morning's edition, and likely also accepted by the populace at large, was that the Centaurs had finally let their natural aggression and undeserved pride finally boil over. The Daily Prophet claimed that the Centaurs had initiated an unprovoked attack on a simple, routine inspection. The breaking news headlines of the paper today dealt with the horrendous and unexpected defeat that the honorable Aurors had suffered when they had gone into the forest to try and restore order to the beastly herd. There were entire articles dedicated to vibrant and highly-graphic accounts of the massacre and wild tales of the survivors, most of them most likely exaggerated beyond recognition. However, there were a few kernels of truth hidden inside those articles. The most prominent being that the Centaurs had apparently allied with a new Pack of Werewolves called the Lycans. Then there was the fact that the Lycans and Centaurs both possessed incredible new powers and magics that had never been seen before and had terrifying killing potential. Powers and magics like the Lycans' new controlled transformation, strange new killing spells, and weapons that strongly resembled a certain forbidden light blade.

'_If my guess is right_,' Dumbledore thought somberly. '_Then the Centaurs and these 'Lycans' have formed this alliance under Harry's influence, if not outright command. That must mean that he's here, somewhere out there in the forest, right now. What will you do now, my boy, now that the Ministry is starting to raise the stakes even more? How far are you willing to sink into darkness to achieve whatever goals you have now? How does this conflict tie into those goals? Are you even still in the Light or has Sorcery truly robbed you of it as Moody has been saying from the start?_'

"What'll we do when things start going out of control?" Moody demanded, glaring over at Dumbledore with his normal eye.

"…We will not get involved directly," Dumbledore decided, speaking quietly as his expression mirrored his thoughtful contemplation. "Our focus should be on preserving the future of the Wizarding World. That means protecting Hogwarts should the battle somehow reach these hallowed grounds."

Clearly not liking the idea of fighting on the sidelines, Moody's angry scowl deepened but he remained silent. The other Order members looked relieved that they'd be spared having to rush into combat when Giants were nearby. Dumbledore returned his gaze outside as he watched the frontlines of the approaching force of Aurors and Giants nearing the borders of the Forbidden Forest, walking a relatively short distance away from Hagrid's hut.

The next battle was about to begin.

* * *

**Hogwarts Grounds**

At the back of the Aurors who were marching back into the Forbidden Forest, Tonks couldn't stop herself from staring quite blatantly at the three Giants. The massive creatures wore little more than tanned animal hides which was scarcely enough to cover their modesty and were carrying entire tree trunks for clubs over their shoulders as carelessly as a Muggle would a simple baseball bat. They were lumbering onwards next to the column of Wizards, all of whom were more preoccupied with closely watching the Giants for even the faintest sign of aggression rather than watching the approaching tree line of the forest. Needless to say, the column was extremely tense and scared but were gamely pushing on towards their goal.

Tonks had no idea what madness pushed to the Ministry 'war council' as it'd been dubbed to bring in Giants of all things. It was so far beyond necessary that it even seemed to put 'overkill' to shame. If she could've, Tonks would've turned back time to curse whoever's _brilliant_ idea this was! The threat of the Giants deciding to attack their hated oppressors instead of following through with the agreement of subduing, or more likely _massacring_, the Centaurs was just too high a risk for even the most illogical and insane of Wizards.

She had absolutely no doubt that this was going to end very, very badly, even worse than yesterday's battle. She had been very lucky and smart to hide at the back of the march yesterday. That luck was the only reason she had made it out unharmed that day when the ambush struck. The scant hundred meters she'd walked into the forest placed her well outside the battlefield. It was a strategy that she hoped would work again today. Hoping that by hiding in the back, she wouldn't be forced to actually participate in this madness. Plus, she had no intention of going up against those deadly new weapons that MagiTech was supplying the Centaurs and Lycans for this conflict.

The attack came abruptly, with no warning or offer of negotiations. Just a sudden hail of blue beams shooting out of the forest towards the column of wizards and giants. Understandably, most of the fire was concentrated on the giants. The frontline Wizards reacted quickly, throwing up shields or erecting barriers to ward off any shots towards themselves. The line of Wizards behind them cast a variety of spells out into the forest, over the shoulders of their foremost companions.

Spells like fireballs, Blasting hexes, conjured arrows, and even a rare Transfiguration spell like a leopard flew into the trees. Some of the spells had no apparent effect beyond exploding against unfortunate trees in their path. Others impacted against bizarre blue domes of transparent light, bouncing off or exploding harmlessly and leaving the interior of the dome unaffected. Although, several of the spells were close enough to the shooters to cause them to dodge to the side and expose themselves to the Wizards. Tonks watched as several of these exposed Lycans started making their way forwards, rifles blazing as they fired into the frontline of the Wizards. The Giants, upon seeing their foe finally start exposing themselves, let out loud roars of rage and begun to jog forward to meet them.

"THA' _HURT!_" one of the Giants cried out, angry and incredulous at the same time.

Up until that point, the Giants had been unable to do anything but take the hits of the strange blue streaks of light that were heading towards them. Strangely, something the Giants just couldn't understand why, the blue lights actually _hurt_. Granted, they were the equivalent of bee stings, but that was still more pain than they normally ran into whenever they fought with a Wizard or a Wizard-trained Werewolf. And they were getting hit quite a lot. The pain was unfamiliar, which angered the Giants quickly.

And in their anger, they charged headlong to meet their aggressors, completely forgetting any agreement they had made with the Wizards behind them. The Lycans wisely abandoned their charge when they spotted the Giants rushing towards them, dodging to the sides. Most of them shifted into their wolf-forms for greater speed and maneuverability.

"COM' 'ERE, LIL' WOLVES!" the Giant on the right yelled. "_COM' DIE! ME SMASH YA' __**REAL**__ GOOD!_"

"Retreat!" one of the Lycans cried.

"No! Hold your positions! Keep firing!" another yelled back as the incoming fire started wavering indecisively.

Then, over the sound gunfire and exploding spells, the sound of hooves thundering against the ground was heard. Tonks looked to the side, where the sound was coming from, and spotted an incoming group of galloping armored Centaurs. Clad in their gleaming golden armor that reminded Tonks strongly of the Ancient Greeks, they were quite a sight to see. Especially with the assortment of glowing and battle-ready lightpikes, blasters and bowcasters, and bow and arrows as they raced along the front of the line, between the forest line and the frontline of Wizards and the approaching Giants.

"Target the Centaurs!" one of the Auror captains shouted. In response, several dozen Wizards shifted their aims. The irritation of the Aurors, blue shields similar to the domes earlier sprang to life around the Centaurs and protected them or the Centaurs were able to deflect the spells with their lightpikes.

"HORSES!" the left Giant cried out mockingly, turning to face them as it hefted its club up and ready. "COM' TA' DIE?!"

_Nobody_ calls a Centaur a 'horse.' _Ever_. Not even the most arrogant pureblood would ever dare call a Centaur a horse to their face, not if them wanted to live. There was no single way to draw a Centaur's wrath quicker than by calling or comparing them to a horse. And that was readily apparent as several of the Centaurs suddenly broke out of their charging formation to attack the offending Giant. The Giant sneered arrogantly as it swung its club, hitting two Centaurs in the process and knocking their lifeless bodies back into their fellows with a laugh.

However, that laugh was soon changed to a cry of anger as one of the Centaurs dodged around his recovering or dead companions and charged the Giant's side, stabbing his lightpike deeply into its side. Though the Giant kicked the Centaur away quickly, the angle of the kick and the Centaur's strong grasp on his pike caused the blade to get yanked out of the Giant's side at angle rather than pulled out in a straight line. This resulted in the Giant's abdomen getting cut wide open like a dissected frog with its guts spilling out in a grotesque pile of flesh. The Giant died soon afterwards, along with the crushed Centaur attacker.

As this was taking place, the rest of the Centaurs were weaving along the line of the forest. They would make charges towards the Wizards so they could take swipes at them or shoot over their heads towards the Wizards in the third or fourth lines, before rapidly retreating. This manner of combat was somewhat unorthodox, catching many of the Wizards off guard and causing quite a few causalities in the middle and rear portions of the line. Even Tonks had to throw up a shield to block an arrow aimed at her.

But while the Centaurs were busy distracting the Wizards, the Lycans weren't having nearly as much luck against the last two Giants. One of the Giants had entered into the forest, slamming trees about, stamping and smashing the earth in an attempt to flush out more of the Lycans. Several of the Lycans in wolf-form had mounted the Giant, using their teeth and claws to ripe and shred its flesh, though with limited success. Others continued to fire at the Giants with their rifles, hoping to slowly whittle down its natural magical defenses with overwhelming firepower. But the problem with that strategy was that they had limited ammunition and not enough heavy weapons, having not predicted the Wizards would be willing and/or desperate enough to use Giants to attack them.

"ME MAD NOW!" that Giant was shouting as it tried to grab ahold of the Lycans crawling and clawing at it with its massive hands to crush them himself. But the Lycans were much faster than it was, able to dodge or jump off of it before it could grab them.

Two Lycans crawled up to its shoulders, digging in deeply with their talons. Unlike earlier, these two each had something their companions hadn't, holding up large blaster cannons and aimed directed into the base of the Giant's skull. Pulling the triggers, they unleashed a quick burst of shots into the Giant's unprotected head. Unlike with the smaller shots of the rifles and because of the cannons' pointblank range, the shots easily punched through its skin and blasted through its skull, reducing its small brain to a fleshy mush.

The Lycans continued firing into the cavity they made in the Giant's head until their shots started punching out through other side, through the Giant's face, by which point the Giant's body was already collapsing limply onto its knees before toppling over.

The last Giant stepped out from behind the Wizards' line and started walking towards the forest, roaring angrily, only to be confronted by a single and somewhat smaller form than the other Lycans present. The figure wore a camouflaged body armor and some kind of black mask with a hood over its hair. The figure was firing a rifle in his hands, roaring up at the Giant defiantly in a manner that would've made many Gryffindors proud. As the Giant drew back its club for a powerful strike, the masked boy leapt to the side, rolling as the tree-club passed harmlessly over him.

Coming up into a crouch, the boy ejected the rifle's ammo clip after its ammo was exhausted. With missing a beat, the boy held up his clenched fist towards the Giant as it was preparing to swing back at him. A wave of fire erupted from the gauntlet on the boy's arm, catching the Giant by surprise and sending it stumbling backwards. A loud roar started up from the boy, this time noticeably artificial, as the backpack he wore suddenly ignited and blasted him skywards. The boy continued spraying fire into the stumbling Giant's face as he flew upwards and slightly to the side. Roaring, the Giant swung his club at the boy, who easily rolled over the tree. Although he did finally discontinue his flamethrower as he dodged. Quickly digging into one of his pouches, he slapped a new ammo clip into the rifle and started firing into the Giant's face, pelting its jaw and cheeks with stings as he aimed for its eyes. As he did this, the boy again reached for something hanging on his shoulder straps.

"_**S'OP IT!**_" the Giant roared, reach out with one hand unexpectedly and catching the boy in its grasp. Glaring at the small figure it held as it hefted up its club, the Giant growled savagely, "_ME __**MAD**__!_"

"_Hey, ugly!_" the boy shouted in a muffled voice that sounded familiar to Tonks. Lifting up his free hand, he threw something small and round into the Giant's open mouth. "_From me to you!_ _**Choke**__ on it!_"

Before the Giant could do anything other than look confused at what the boy was talking about, wondering why he'd throw something in its mouth, and if it should spit it out or swallow it, the apple-size thing's timer reached its end. In a burst of fire, smoke, blood, and flesh, the Giant's head _literally_ exploded in a spray of gore. The Giant's body fell limply backwards, catching a couple of Wizards who'd been too close nearby by surprise and crushing them. The boy didn't go with it though, having reignited his jetpack once the Giant's grip had lessened and shot up into the air to hover over it.

"Did that kid really just kill a Giant by himself?!" one of the Wizards near Tonks gasped out in amazement and horror.

"Who is that kid?!" "Is it Potter?!" "No way! Potter's not that buff!" "That kid just became the new Giantsbane!"

Despite herself, Tonks couldn't help smirking as she shook her head. Giantsbane for a Muggle, really? That would probably be the first time in all of recorded history! Naturally, Giantsbane was a title given to any Wizard or Witch who were able to kill a Giant. Normally, Giantsbane was a title given to groups of Wizards, since it almost _always_ required a team effort to fight against, much _kill_, a Giant. But those rare few individuals who could kill a Giant by themselves…? They _truly_ deserved the title and the honor that went with it. And she had a strong suspicion that Dudley would likely love his newfound nickname and infamy in the Wizarding World when he found out about it.

It cannot be understated the amount of distress the Wizards felt upon seeing the Giants fall so quickly and easily. Wizards feared Giants above all else. In fact, the origins of the distrust against half-breeds were started because of Giants, half-Giant offspring, and their violent ways back in the millennia prior to the Statute of Secrecy. But as much as Wizards feared and hated Giants, they also had a very healthy respect for them and their incredible magic-immunity. They could shrug off most types of magic that would've killed or crippled a normal Wizard or Witch easily. So they were forced to tread very, _very_ carefully around Giants for fear of upsetting them. So, seeing their figurative aces be brought down so easily, it brought out something in the Wizards.

Fear is a powerful motivator, when its used in the correct manner. And for the Wizards in this case, it most assuredly was. Where before the Wizards had been focusing on the Centaurs, trying to focus on maintaining their formation and keep up a strong barrier between them and their aggressors as their fellows lobbed spells over their heads, a standard battle formation tactic among Wizards. But now, seeing the last of the Giants fall to a figure who couldn't have been more than a boy, triggered a realization that they had far, _far_ underestimated just how dangerous their enemies were. And without the Giants there to take the brunt of their attacks…

The shields were dropped as a wall of offensive spells was suddenly launched, catching the Centaur group by surprise. If not for the shield generators they were wearing on their backs, the sudden magical tsunami would've crippled or killed them. As it was, they were fast to realize it was too much magic for the generators to defend against and retreated into the forest. Dudley, still hovering in the air, was forced to dodge and weave as he rapidly retreated back into the forest as well. Even with that, he was still clipped by a few spells and accidentally dropped some of his weapons and his cloak caught fire as he fled. But he managed to escape by flying full power away.

It took the Wizards a few moments to realize that they had just caused their now greatly feared enemies to retreat before their incredible combined magical might. It took even less time for their newfound fear to evaporate and be replaced with seemingly well-deserved pride and arrogance. _Of course_ they'd sent their enemies running! They'd had them use up _all_ of their tricks and show off their fighting styles by sending the expendable Giants in first. Now that they _knew_ what to expect, they'd _finally_ crush them and return the Wizarding World back to its _proper state!_ They were Wizards and Witches of Wizarding Great Britain after all! The _greatest_ of magical nation in all of the world!

"_Forward!_" Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour cried out. "Don't let them recover! _FORWARD! ATTACK!_"

With that command and these arrogant thoughts coursing through their minds, the line of Wizards charged forward after their retreating prey and entered the forest at long last. They finally had the initiative and they weren't going to let it go so easily!

* * *

_**Warlock**_**, near the Village**

As the line of Wizards and Giants were approaching the forest, the activity around the _Warlock_ was at an all-time high. The Lycans at their radio stations were frantically trying to coordinate with their forces to set up a new defensive line. This should've been easy since they'd spent most of last night laying traps and building small defensible areas. However, it seemed the Wizards were gripped in some kind of battle-lust. They were pushing hard and fast into the forest, nipping at the Lycans' heels and preventing them from being to consolidate anywhere for too long.

"Bloody hell," Sirius growled as he watched the hologram of the battle with a deep scowl of anger. "I knew that they were desperate, using Giants showed that much, but I didn't think they'd be this quick either."

"Like I said, Sirius," Hendrick spoke up from the other side of the table, also gazing down at the hologram. "Never underestimate your opponent." Turning to the side, he barked out, "Squad Gamma, move twenty meters north. Squad Charlie is about to be ambushed!" The Lycan he spoke to didn't bother responding before relaying the orders.

"Sirius," a familiar young voice spoke up from the back of the command center.

Turning around, Sirius saw his godson approach. The boy was wearing a frown every bit as deep as his own. Clad in a battle armor similar to his cousin's but also with a brown wizarding cloak pulled over it, the boy looked ready to fight in a war.

Before Harry could say anything, Sirius said, "No. I will not have my godson rush out there into a battle like this! Do you know what'll happen if you show yourself out there, visibly supporting the Lycans and Centaurs in front of the entire Auror Corps? You will be justifying their war and proving everything Fudge and his ilk have been saying about you!"

"If I don't go out there," Harry countered in a low, steady voice. "Then many more will die before the fighting is over, on both sides. I can't let that happen! And if I go out there, they'll have to concentrate themselves on fighting me. That'll give everyone else a chance and time to regroup and restock."

"I agree," Hendrick said, looking pointedly over at Harry so he could ignore Sirius's sudden death glare in his direction. "They caught us by surprise and we haven't been able to recover yet. We need a distraction to counter that."

"Then _I'll_ go!" Sirius snapped. "I'm _not_ changing my mind on this!"

"_Sirius!_" Remus's voice called out over the radio. "_We've got trouble! Greyback's in the Tower!_"

All heads snapped over to the radio, looks of surprise and dawning horror on their faces.

"What? No! How—?" Quickly reorienting himself, Sirius's gaze snapped back to Harry, now knowing where he could send his godson without risk of exposing himself.

But the boy was already gone.

"Aaaah, no!" Sirius cried out, angry and disappointed at Harry, Greyback, and especially himself. Facing Hendrick, he said, "I'm returning to the Tower. I assume you've got things handled here?"

Hendrick just waved his hand at him dismissively. Sirius frowned at that but didn't comment. He knew his presence here was superfluous and unnecessary, but it still kind of stung his pride a little bit. Shaking his head, he quickly apparated away.

* * *

**Forbidden Forest, near the Centaur Village**

Sliding to a stop behind a reasonably large and thick tree, Dudley heaved for breath as he hurriedly reached to his right gauntlet and hit a small red button. Follow a hissing snap, the jetpack ejected off his back. Its fuel was nearly empty and it was just dead weight to him. Devoid of the jetpack, he leaned heavily against the tree, panting hard as he tried to ignore the burning exhaustion in his limbs. Looking to the side, he spotted George crouched next to a similar tree with another Lycan beside him, both looking as worn as he felt.

The retreat through the forest had been easy or smooth. The Wizards had pressed their advantage relentlessly, firing off spells into the woods that generally had area-effect powers like fireballs or liquefying the earth or even just blasting whole trees into splinters. While the Wizards couldn't match the Lycans or Centaurs in a contest of running speed, they could catch up to them using that teleportation trick of theirs. Combined with a few conjured blades of silver, they were able to start hack out some serious numbers of causalities among the alliance. That, along with their overwhelming numbers in comparison to the alliance's 300, the 500 Aurors were easily able to outflank the beleaguered defenders multiple times already.

Taking of his mask, Dudley wiped the sweat from his face before donning it again. Shifting the rifle that he'd grabbed from one of the dead Lycan bodies, he glared at seeing its low ammo charge light flickering. Enough for one shot, _maybe_ two. Reaching into his pouch, he found only one clip left. '_Dammit! I knew I shouldn't have wasted them all on the Giants!_'

Leaning to the side, he glanced wearily around the tree trunk. The approaching Wizards were arrogantly trampling along through the brush only ten or so meters away. They hadn't see him or the others take their hiding places thanks to the slight depression they were in. Biting back the rising fear he was feeling, knowing that he was now almost certainly going to die in the next few moments, he brought the rifle around and opened fire. His shot caught one Wizard, a large bearded man, high in the chest and he collapsed to the ground dead. Shouts spread among the Wizards as they tried to locate where his shot came from. When his next shot didn't fire, Dudley instantly ejected the cartridge and slapped the last one in.

As he was bringing his rifle up again, he watched as a small cloaked figure dropped down from above. Landing in a crouch in the midst of the Wizards, the figure thrust one hand to the ground as a wave of energy swept outwards. The magical repulse sent all of the nearby sixteen Wizards flying in all directions. The sudden attack caught the Wizards by surprise as they turned to face him. The cloak shifted in the air as the being stood up, revealing a set of armor underneath it and a pair of glowing green eyes. If those weren't enough of a clue, a familiar blue blade of light sprang to life in one hand while the other held up a simple holly wand.

"Potter!" one of the Wizards cried out, focusing his attention on the wanted criminal. "IT'S POT—!" He was abrupt silenced by a wave of magic that sent him flying backwards into a tree where he collapsed unconscious.

At that sign of aggression, the surrounding Wizards began launching spells at the boy. Harry danced about, swinging his lightsaber and waving his wand, deflecting or absorbing all spells that were launched towards him. To their eyes, it was like Harry knew where each spell would come from, which he could deflect ad which he needed to dodge, before they were even cast. Needless to say, it was very frustrating to the Aurors. Seeing the opportunity, Dudley and the two Lycans quickly resumed their firing, catching several of the Wizards in their sides before they remembered that there were still other enemies in the forest.

It was also at this moment that the Centaurs had managed to rally and come charging back, ready to take up the fight once again. Squeezing off a few more shots, Dudley looked up and hurriedly caught a new satchel that a passing Centaur had dropped towards him. One glance put a grin back on Dudley's face since it was jam-packed with fresh ammo clips all glowing brilliantly within. The tide of battle was turning once again.

* * *

**Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade**

"You're _sure_ it was him?" Minister Fudge demanded, holding the messenger by the front of his robe to look him in the eye. "One hundred positive, no mistake that it was _**him**_?!"

"_Completely_, Minister!" the messenger nodded frantically, feeling very nervous by the wild-eyed look of madness starting to cross Fudge's gaze. Thankfully for the messenger, Fudge released him and allowed him to scamper back out of the door and away from the meeting room.

It was shortly after midday and the second battle had ended only a few minutes ago. Following Harry Potter's unexpected appearance in the midst of the battlefield, the Aurors had been summarily pushed back by the rejuvenated Dark Creatures alliance. And once again neither the Werewolves or the Centaurs pursued them beyond the forest's boundaries. The death toll was considerably higher than it had been in the previous battle with more than a hundred dead and many more wounded. Though, curiously, most of those deaths were from the first half of the battle, with the Giants on the Hogwarts grounds rather than in the Forbidden Forest itself.

"This is not good," the Head Unspeakable commented in the silence that followed the messenger's departure. "We are not properly equipped or trained to face off against a Sorcerer, even one as relatively young and untrained as Potter likely is."

"Sorcerer?" Bones snapped, her gaze flashing to the cloaked man for a moment before shooting back to Fudge and his curious lack of a reaction. "What's this about a Sorcerer?!"

"You didn't know?" the Unspeakable asked, clearly surprised as he too looked to Fudge. What else hadn't he told the other Department Heads and members of the Wizengamot…? What else hadn't he told him?! Shaking those disturbing thoughts from his mind, the Unspeakable returned his attention to Bones. "Potter somehow got his hands on an instruction manual for Sorcerers and started learning their magics, likely ignorant of just how dangerous they were. When it was discovered what he was doing, that was when the Minister went to Hogwarts to try and speak with the boy and that fight broke out." At least, that was the _official_ story of what had happened there.

Bones sent Fudge a deep, loathing glare that would've frozen most men in their tracks had they seen it. But Fudge's back was conveniently turned away as he was hurriedly scribbling something into a small notebook he held in his hands. Turning back to the Unspeakable, she said, "Tell me what kinds of powers and magics we can expect out of the boy."

As Bones and the Unspeakable took over the discussion of the war council, trying to formulate a proper response strategy against Harry's unprecedented new magic, Fudge was busy with his notebook. Writing into it a series of questions, statements, and commands, he watched as they sank into the paper and disappeared. After a few moments, several sentences were written in reply with a noticeably different handwriting style. Satisfied with what he read, Fudge smiled as he wrote back a simple command. Once that command sunk in, he closed the booklet and turned back to the meeting taking place.

"Enough!" Fudge barked out, silencing the slight bickering that the meeting had devolved into. "Send the Aurors back in! All of those that can still fight are hereby ordered to return! We won't let those beasts or Potter get a chance to rest and resupply!"

"Minister, no!" Bones barked back immediately. "The Aurors are exhausted after that fight and will not have the moral to push forward again! They've been beaten back twice, watched the Lycans kill Giants with minimal effort, and now have to fight against a Sorcerer! We aren't ready yet!"

"SEND—THEM—IN—_**NOW!**_" Fudge roared angrily, banging his hand on the table to further help emphasize his command. Having silenced Bones and any other naysayer momentarily, his temper cooled enough for him to start talking again in a semi-calm tone. "I have had people researching, experimenting, and training in ways to combat a Sorcerer since Potter's escape from Hogwarts months ago. They are here, ready, and willing to fight him now. Let them worry about Potter, the Aurors concentrate on these _Lycans_ and Centaurs!"

"As you wish, Minister," Bones bit out, her glare digging into Fudge accusingly. "But we are going to be having a _talk_ after all this is done."

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Heheheh, I told you this one would be out sooner. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. Writing a battle scene is always fun. And now we are going to finally meet this Spectre Knights that Fudge is so arrogantly proud of! How well of a fight will they be able to put up against Harry?

Also, if anyone sees anything wrong with this battle scene, please tell me! That way I can fix or address the issue in the coming chapter(s). Without reviews or feedback, I don't know if what I'm doing it good, bad, right, or left!

PLEASE REVIEW!


	23. Cloak and Dagger

**The Lightsaber**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance &amp; Fiori57  
_#23: Cloak and Dagger_

**Centre Point Tower, London****  
April 9, 1996**

At roughly about the time that the Wizarding army and its three Giant enforcers were getting attacked outside of the Forbidden Forest, things were quiet and calm at MagiTech. Despite their new Pack being at war, most of the Lycans were not warriors. So, while the warriors of the various former Packs had gone with Sirius and Harry, the rest of them had stayed behind in London and continued working on their various jobs and projects. And there were quite a few of them that needed to be done. But that's not to say that all of them were content to whittle the days away like nothing was wrong.

"I'm soooooo _booooored!_" Ashley Felix whined for the umpteenth time this morning, idly fiddling with the cup of coffee in her hand.

She was in a secret underground hangar bay beneath Centre Point Tower, feet propped up on a nearby table as she slouched backwards in the chair she was in. She and Janet McLaren were in the employee lunchroom that was wedged into the corner of the hangar, eating a small snack as they enjoyed their 15-minute break. Things had not been fun for Ashley since she and Dudley had gotten back from their little joyride over the North Sea and the encounter with the UN armed forces. Mr. Black had punished her by putting her on janitor duty for three weeks.

While that might've been seen more as a slap on the wrist by most people, wizard and muggle alike, it was actually a very _terrible_ job for a person with a Werewolf's keen sense of smell. What was worse was that she was _sure_ that the Wizard-turned-businessman was the one who had released one of those awful Dung Bombs on the last day of her punishment and, given the terms of the punishment, she had to clean it all up without the use of magic! It—was—AWFUL! She was wrong of course, as it had actually been Remus behind it.

Ashley had thought that once she got off her punishment and allowed to get back to work, she might've been kept busy and entertained. But that did not seem to be the case, she just couldn't find enough things to do to keep herself suitably busy. When the business with the Centaurs and the looming war started up, she'd been among the first to volunteer but had been summarily dismissed with her previous 'battle action' working against her. Who knew that the Alba Pack Alpha was such a stickler when it came to such _minor_ details as not following orders like that…? Okay, she knew why she'd been denied and she knew the importance of following orders when it was necessary. But this situation was quite different than the last one!

So, here she was. Trying to find a way to amuse herself by spending some quality time with her friend, exploring the recently built hangar, and inspecting the new line of aerial vehicles that MagiTech was planning on building and selling. Unlike their earlier models, these vehicles were clearly meant as pure cargo haulers. They were very large, able to store massive amounts of cargo in their underbellies with minimal fuss. And the best part was that they were designed for excellent fuel efficiency and long-distance travel, such as overseas flights. An ambitious new ship that was meant to phase out the slower deep-sea vessels that still sailed the oceans. Just looking at these new ships in various stages of construction was enough to get her inner-pilot giggling and squealing like a little girl, yearning to take them out for joyrides as well. Maybe she should apply to be the test pilot for the different ships?

"That's nice, Ashley," Janet said in response to Ashley's earlier comment, her voice distracted as she ignored the younger girl with the ease of long practice. Instead, she was focusing her attention on the tablet in her hands as she examined, adjusted, and corrected a series of complicated blueprints. "Keep it up."

Ashely rolled her eyes but bit back her initial rebuke. She knew what Janet was like whenever she got distracted from her work, especially when she was this deep into it. She practically became an irritable _beast_ when it happened, no pun intended.

Glancing out the lunchroom's window as she resumed sipping her milk, she smiled slightly as her wandering gaze landed upon the small group of Centaurs. They were being led around the hangar bay by Mr. Remus Lupin, clearly giving them some kind of tour. Now there was a lone wolf with a history! Ashley was not sure if she was jealous or annoyed by all the incredible stuff he'd gone through. A Werewolf able to get a full Wizarding education at Hogwarts, managing to hide his lycanthropy (with help, admittedly) long enough to graduate. Then getting caught up in and living through the Dark War against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Returning to Hogwarts years later to become a professor. And now he was essentially the second-in-command of running the operations of MagiTech Industries alongside Mr. Black. The fact that he enjoyed a semi-personal connection to Harry Potter the Cleanser was just a side note to all of that in comparison!

'_I hope I can lead as interesting a life as he'd been able to,_' she found herself wishing earnestly.

A loud chime echoed through the breakroom, alerting everyone that their fifteen minutes had expired. Tossing her empty disposable coffee cup to the trash as she departed, she made her way towards her current work location. It was a small, stuffy office filled with monitors and computer screens. This was the duty she'd been relegated to for the duration of the war: surveillance of the Tower. It was a slow, boring, and thankless job. The most excitement she could expect from it was alerting security to civilians trying to break into the restricted areas of the tower, which happened more often than one would expect.

Switching the small fan on, she took her seat and started gazing at the monitors, familiarizing herself with the layout once again. There were several dozen customers loitering around the public sections. Research and experiments taking place higher up. A crowd of people walking through the underground emergency escape route. Janitors tidying up the upper lev—wait,_ what?!_

Snapping her attention back to the monitor in question, she stared with wide eyes and dawning horror at what she was seeing. As a former member of the Greyback Pack, Ashley was easily able to recognize the majority of the crowd. She could not see who was leading them, but the fact was that they should not even know about that hallway! It was restricted and secret, known only to the Lycan employees. An escape route they could take if the Wizards ever caught wind of the Tower and tried to assault it. But while she did not see who was letting them inside, she did spot the one monster she loathed above all others.

Coming out of her shock, she scooted over to the computer. With one hand grabbing a holo-comm, she triggered the alarm with the other. A few moments after the flashing red lights and siren went off, her comm started beeping urgently. Activating it, she didn't wait for the image to fully materialize before she cried out, "Greyback! Greyback's in the Tower! And he's brought his Pack with him!"

"_You're sure?!_" Remus demanded, staring at her with dawning horror and realization of his own. "_You're absolutely positive?! Where is he?! How'd he get in?! Are there any Death Eaters with him?!_"

"I don't see any Death Eater robes, but he's in the north corridor, almost to the—" The two of the monitors suddenly died and were replaced by digital static. At the same time, her comm died. "Mr. Lupin? Remus?!"

A communications disruption like this couldn't be a coincidence! Looking back over to the monitors, she quickly found what she'd feared. There was someone up on the roof, crouched over and fiddling with the main antenna array. That sight drew a deep glare from Ashley, a feral snarl rumbling out of her throat. '_Somehow, Greyback got some of his men into Centre Point without anyone noticing until it was too late_.' Quickly taking up her comm again, she plugged a small cord into it and then into the computer itself. Once inside, her fingers flew across the keyboard as she attempted to bypass the cut hardware. It took longer than she'd have liked. She was a pilot and a fighter, first and foremost dammit! She was _not_ a technician or computer analyst or _whatever_.

By the time she'd managed to finally maneuver around the cut wires and reroute the signals to the secondary antennas, rumbling and explosions had started to flare up above her. Sparing a glance at the monitors again, she frowned as she saw what she expected, savage fighting taking place. On one particular monitor, she had just managed to watch as yet another explosion was set off in one of the public areas, killing Muggles and Lycans alike, shattering the reinforced windows, and sending clouds of billowing black smoke outside. Even without her enhanced senses, she could've heard that explosion and felt the faint tremors as the entire building and its foundations shook above and around her. Needless to say, that camera went offline rather quickly midway through the explosion.

Finally getting access, she switched her comm back on. "Remus?! You still there?!"

"_What happened?!_" Remus demanded, his hologram crouched next to a wall with a wand in one hand and a blaster pistol in the other.

"Sabotage! Someone's cutting our antennas! I don't know how much longer we'll have before they cut the secondary ones as well!"

"_Dammit_," Remus growled, thinking hard and fast. "_Okay, I'm gonna contact Sirius. You, you go to the computer rooms and get the black box! Keep it safe and get it to Harry!_" By black box, Remus meant the computer hard drive that all of MagiTech's truly top-secret and most potentially dangerous data and experiments were stored. Stuff that, in the wrong hands, hands like Greyback and his master, could have apocalyptic results. "_Also, warn the Centaurs! Tell them to go hide in the __**Firefly**__ and not come out until either I or Sirius says its safe!_"

"What are you going to do, sir?" she asked.

"_I'm going to try and slow down Greyback from getting any further into the Tower!_" Remus said, his voice and expression flat and resigned as though already knowing that he was marching towards his death. But then his expression changed to that of resolution and his gaze sharpened again as he barked out, "_Now go!_"

"Yes, sir!" Ashley acknowledged, unplugging her comm from the computer and rushing out of the room. Luckily for her, the computer hardware rooms were close by to the security monitor office she had been in, only a couple of hallways distance. She covered that distance very quickly due to her partially transforming into her wolf-form. She paused only when she spotted a group of frightened Centaur kids gathered near the doorway from the hangar bay. Shifting back into her human-form, she barked out, "Get back on the _Firefly!_ Greyback the Werewolf and his Pack are attacking! Do not come out until Mr. Black or Lupin say so!" She did not wait for a reply before sprinting off again.

As she was barging into the computer room, she found herself face to muzzle with another familiar monster. It was Baxter of the Alba Pack, a vagabond who was rumored to have sympathies for the Greyback Pack. And she knew immediately what he had been up to as soon as she'd opened the door. The scent of fresh blood was heavy in the air. His muzzle and fangs were still dripping with it, and blood was splashed upon his clothing in random places. There were two bodies lying upon the ground behind him, slashed and torn apart with all the savagery of a beast. One of them was Janet, her best friend! She took all of this in within the split second it took for her to recover from bumping into him.

"_TRAITOR!_" she roared, her clawed hand flashing upwards and grabbing ahold of his jaw. His surprise at her sudden appearance and unexpected attack was all the opening she needed for her to flash-transform into her wolf, bury her own fangs into his exposed neck, and rip his throat open. She bounced away from him as he collapsed on the floor, dropping a black data box as his hands shot up to his gushing neck. His eyes were wide open, staring at her with anger, fear, and incomprehension before the light rapidly faded from them. Ashley only spared him enough thought to spit out the large chunk of his flesh that she'd torn out as she rushed to Janet's side, returning to her human self.

"Janet! Janet!" she cried, scooping up her friend and trying to shake her awake. But one look at the glazed over eyes of her friend told her the obvious, Janet was already long dead. Grief welled up in Ashley instantly as tears flooded her eyes. Janet was as much a mother to her as she had been a big sister figure, having never known her parents and not having any siblings. And now, _she was **gone!**_

Throwing back her head, she let out a long, anguished howl. Her voice echoed off the walls, but went completely unheard by the others several floors up who were in the midst of a terrible battle.

* * *

**CEO Suite, Centre Point Tower**

Landing in his suite, Sirius hurriedly looked around to make sure he was alone, which he was. His personal chambers were specially warded and locked down by both magic and technology to prevent intruders from entering. As he was doing this, he could hear and feel the vibrations of explosions and the fighting taking place in the lower levels. Outside his suite windows, he could see a plume of smoke rising up out of a destroyed window from further down and also faintly hear the sounds of sirens as cop cars and policemen were racing towards the scene. '_This is gonna be a __**bloody **__**nightmare**__ to deal with afterwards_,' he realized with a heavy sigh.

Putting that depressing thought to the back of his mind, Sirius rushed over to a series of monitors near his apartment's door. Looking over them, he got a basic idea of what was happening and none of it looked good. The bottom three levels of the Tower were utterly trashed with the bodies of Lycan employees, cloaked attackers, and Muggles lying upon the ground in random areas, usually in pools of their own blood. Between levels 10 and 13, that was where the majority of the fighting seemed to be concentrated right now. But what he was seeing was somewhat distressing and a little strange.

It looked like all of the Lycans were in their wolf-forms and were fighting each other. Not all of them, since there were a few who were still in human-form so they could more easily use some of the MagiTech weaponry. But the distressing part was that he could not recognize any of the attackers because of their wolf-forms. Where was Fenrir Greyback? Where was Remus? And, if his darkest suspicion was right, how did the remainder of the Greyback Pack get Cleansed? Something was not right here.

Shaking his head again, he refocused on the monitors and quickly found where the Centaur refugees were hiding. It seemed that they or someone had been smart and had them all gather inside the same transport ship that was docked in a secret underground hangar they'd constructed. While most of the Centaurs were just young children and elderly ones, there were a dozen warriors with them and all of them seemed to be guarding the entrance to the hangar and the transport ship itself. '_Good, one less thing to worry about_.'

Looking back at the fighting, he frowned at seeing that it had progressed up to Level 14 in his distraction. '_Dammit, no more time to waste!_' Turning, he opened his door and rushed for the elevator. As he was moving, he brought up his holo-comm and typed in Remus's number. "Remus, it's me. You there? Where are you?"

No answer.

Frowning, he tried again. "Remus? Speak to me! Where are you?!"

No answer again. Forcing himself to not to jump to conclusions, he entered the elevator and hit the level 15 button. It was a very tense ride down for him, watching as the levels slowly dropped until he reached his desired one. Racing out before the doors were even fully open, he found the level to be in a state of panic and confusion. Lycan employees were running about, some in their wolf-forms, others were yelling at one another for whatever reasons, and a few others were even in the process of starting to get into a few brawls.

"LYCANS!" Sirius yelled, his voice cutting over the din with some effort. Thankfully, his shout managed to garner the majority of their attentions. "Now isn't the time to panic! We need to organize a proper defense! Does anyone here know how to fight and lead?! We need some volunteers and leaders to help coordinate! Come on, people, chop-chop!"

After a long moment of hesitation, the Lycans soon set about organizing themselves into a semi-feasible defense. Sirius set them up around the stairwells and elevators, appointing the calmest among each group as squad-leaders whenever there were not any volunteers to lead. With some grumbling among them, the Lycans did as told and prepared to fight, aiming wands and blasters down the stairwells and at the elevators as needed.

"Mr. Black!" one of the Lycans called out as he approached the last stairwell. Sirius vaguely recognized the man as a former Greyback Pack, that shaggy black hair and animalistic gaze in his eyes were quite hard to forget. "The attackers are all Lycans of the Greyback Pack. I know, I recognized a few of them before I got up here!"

"They're Lycans?" Sirius asked, his gaze snapping to the man inquiringly. "As in 'controlled transformation' Lycan?"

"Yessir!" the Lycan said, nodding his head rapidly. "I—I don't know how they got that way, but it is them!"

"Don't worry," Sirius said reassuringly as he opened the stairwell door and stepped through. "We'll hold them off. Just keep the stairway secure. I'm going down to help the others!"

"Yessir!" the group acknowledged even as he started making his way downstairs.

He was on the next landing down when he noticed that the man from before was still following him. Seeing Sirius's quirked eyebrow, the man shrugged as he said, "You're the CEO. You'll need a bodyguard in that mess down there." Sirius seriously considered sending the man back upstairs, but in the end his self-preservation instincts kicked in and he nodded in acceptance.

The next level down (Floor 14) was a clusterfuck of noise and battle. Grabbing his wand in one hand and a blaster pistol in the other, Sirius started casting spells as soon as he saw a pair of Lycans attacking one another. His Stunner spell hit the back of the wolf that was noticeably _not_ wearing the shredded rags of a MagiTech employee. After the mongrel collapsed unconscious, the standing one pounced and tore the throat of the downed Lycan out. Standing back up, it gave him a brief glance before turning and roaring across the din. Whatever that meant, the battle had momentarily paused as several of the Lycans stood up, poking their heads up over the various cubicles and research tables to look around.

Not giving the strange event much thought, Sirius waded forward into the chaos, casting spells and shooting his blaster where he could, and trying to find other MagiTech employees to rally. Through it all, his self-appointed guardian followed after him in wolf-form, throwing tables and desks about at any aggressive Lycan that was foolish enough to try and approach.

An especially loud roar echoed out over the din of battle, bringing all within hearing range to a complete halt. Standing at the top of the nearest stairwell from the floor below, there was a large black werewolf with streaks of grey within its scraggly fur and mane. The posture of the creature and the bloodthirsty gleam in its eyes were all that Sirius needed to see to know that _this_ was Fenrir Greyback, in his true form. With all the dominant grace of a long-time Alpha, Fenrir stalked forward onto the floor, barking and snapping at any Lycans that seemed ready to start up the fight again as his gaze swept across the floor. When his gaze landed on Sirius, they narrowed dangerously and Sirius tightened his grip on his wand.

With no apparent effort or pain, the monstrous beast shifted and shrunk back into human-form. Dressed in his usual ragged black cloak and clothes, Greyback crossed his arms imposingly across his chest. As soon as his vocal chords had reformed properly, the man gave a feral sneer at Sirius as he started walking forward. "Well, well. If it is not Mr. Sirius Black, in the flesh! The founder of this _abomination_ you call a company. it is a _pleasure_ to meet you again."

"Greyback," Sirius growled. "What are you doing here? Where's Remus?"

"Your pet Lycan is dead for all I care," Fenrir said, waving his hand dismissively.

For a moment, Sirius's instinct to attack spiked dangerously high, a potent desire to avenge his possibly-fallen last best friend. He wanted so _desperately_ to attack, to avenge Remus! And, in the past, heck even a few _months_ ago, he would've jumped on that instinct without any further thought. But long hours of discussion and training and practice with Harry had taught him the value of waiting, of focusing his emotions into something else. So, with a newfound self-control that would've surprised many who've known him, he managed to push aside that instinct and growl out instead, "Do you realize just how much attention this fight is going to be attracting for the Muggles down below? And in broad daylight!"

"Like _you're_ one to be preaching the values of the Statute of Secrecy with where you're standing!" Fenrir snapped back, snarling like a savage beast just seconds away from attacking again. "You think you're so much _better_ than me—than _us,_ you _pureblood filth?!_"

"I have lost a lot of respect for the Statute," Sirius admitted easily. "But even MagiTech does not come out and blatantly do magic in front of the Muggles! Why do you think we're as successful as we are?!"

"Yes, that's another thing we have to talk about," Greyback said, glaring at him. "MagiTech. What a truly remarkable empire you've built on the backs of us Werewolves! Well, now, we're taking it back!"

Sirius frowned even deeper at that. Greyback may be a beast, but he was an admittedly cunning beast. There was something going on here. He was too sure of himself. Glancing around subtly at the Lycans, he could not help wondering why they weren't moving. Why were they just watching this? "I may be the CEO, but I am _not_ the owner. MagiTech is an equal opportun—"

"_SHUT UP!_" Fenrir yelled, surprising Sirius into silence. "This company is no longer yours. It belongs to us!"

"Us?" Sirius asked, shifting his stance very slightly in preparation. "Us as in who? Is all of this for Voldemort?"

"He sent us here, yes," Fenrir acknowledged, nodding his head. Then his feral sneer grew in size as he continued. "He wanted us to destroy this place as soon as we could. That magic and technology should never be combined. That such a thing would be an abomination to magic that must be cleansed immediately from the world." Here, Greyback paused to look around the tower in a symbolically appreciative gaze. After all, this floor and many of the ones below it had been trashed beyond recognition. Returning his attention to the lone Wizard, he continued, "But I look around at this wondrous place and I realize that it would be a terrible shame to destroy it. So, _I'll_ be taking it, for the glory of the Greyback Pack and Werewolves _everywhere!"_

"You're…_rebelling_…against your _beloved_ _master?_" Sirius openly gawked in surprise at that revelation. He could've _never_ anticipated Greyback ever doing such a thing!

Walking forward slightly and coming to a halt only a dozen meters from him, Greyback grinned at Sirius's expression. "Surprised? I _truly_ wish I could see the face of _Lord_ Voldemort when he realizes the same!"

Finally, Sirius could no longer hold himself back. "MagiTech is not _yours_ and it never _will_ be!"

Just as he was swinging his arm to cast a silent curse at the new Lycan, a large clawed hand slammed into his unguarded back. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, shredded his clothes and left deep gashes in his back, and caused him to drop both his wand and his pistol as he was sent flying forward. Crumbling to the ground in a graceless heap at Fenrir's feet, heaving for breath, Sirius looked behind him to stare at his attacker. It was his self-appointed bodyguard, the former _Greyback_ member, who'd attacked him!

"You understand now, don't you?" Fenrir asked as he knelt down in front of the wounded and defenseless Wizard, sneering down at him. "Did you really think my Pack would abandon me so easily? Once a member of _my_ Pack, _always_ a member of my Pack. I've been keeping a very close watch on you ever since your dear little godson and you started building this company." Standing back up, Fenrir started pacing around the Wizard, like a predator preparing to go in for the kill. "it is remarkable, really, just how much influence your little Sorcerer has gained in certain circles and parties. And as much as I hate to admit it, I do owe the boy a great debt. He has done more for Werewolves in a month than generations of Wizards have done in centuries."

Sirius slowly pushed himself up off the ground into a kneeling position, his bleeding and wounded back almost causing him to scream in agony as he moved. Thankfully for his pride, he was just able to hold back the screams, instead coming out as groans.

Greyback ignored his struggling victim as he continued his little victory speech. "He has given us what we've always sought: control of our true selves, pride in our heritage, and now a small but powerful industry to which we'll reap trillions in wealth."

Gasping, Sirius finally found his voice again. "Harry…will _not_…let you and…this _betrayal_…_stand!_ He…_will_ come…and he will…_take you down!_"

"Let him try," Greyback declared. "We know how to fight against Sorcerers now."

At this statement, Sirius glanced up at Greyback as he finally came to a stop just in front of him, his back to the Wizard. '_What does __**that**__ mean?_'

In answer to Sirius's obvious but silent question, Greyback reached behind the folds of his cloak and grasped something from his belt. He swung it out dramatically to the side, giving Sirius a brief glimpse of a poorly-built and cobbled together black handle in his grip. Then, with an eerily familiar snap-hiss, a lightsaber flared to life. It was a barely-stable crimson shaft with two notable smaller projections at the hilt forming a crossguard.

After months of seeing his godson's perfect blue blade that seemed to represent him as a good person, what Sirius now saw was something else: a killer's weapon, an executioner's fetish of choice. Fenrir spun around, raising his lightsaber high and delivering a powerful vertical strike. Red light, refulgent and cutting, ripped across and through the kneeling and betrayed figure of Sirius Black.

* * *

**Location: Unknown**

The next thing Sirius knew following the mind-searing agony of his body getting chopped in two pieces by a plasma blade was that of weightless disorientation. He opened his eyes and spotted a hand held out towards him, which he grasped and was pulled up to his feet. Who he saw when he was pulled upright froze him in surprise.

It was his brother James! Standing next to him was his best friend Remus, smiling in greeting. There was also the beautiful Lily, his uptight and proud brother Regulus, and many others of his past and present who had recently and long since died. They were all gathered together in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, chatting and celebrating. Almost immediately, Sirius was swept up in the joyful reunions, passing stories and enjoying the company of those he'd long lost.

Feeling a forlorn gaze upon his shoulders, Sirius stopped and looked off to the side. He saw his godson Harry staring at him through the windows of the Hall, tears falling down his face but with a small smile at finally seeing his godfather truly happy again. After a moment of staring, Harry stepped back and faded away. Sirius smiled in understanding. He would see Harry again, when it was his time.

* * *

Down below the Tower, the moment that Sirius Black had died had been sensed by the sole mystic among the Centaurs. That mystic would call the warriors back to the ship and, after informing the recently-arrived Ashley Felix of the event, the transport ship would lift off and fly out of the secret hangar mere minutes later. It was a choice that saved all of the Centaurs' lives from the ravenous appetite for death and blood that would soon consume the Greyback Pack.

Standing back up properly from his hacking position, Greyback hefted up his weapon and cried out, "_Starting today, WE WILL __**NEVER**__ BE __**SLAVES AGAIN!**_" Around him, all 'former' members of his Pack roared in victory. The other Packs wisely backed down. They were not fighters and they were not as in touch with their wolf-forms' instincts as the Greyback Pack was. They would ultimately lose the fight if they continued, especially since most of their best fighters had gone north to fight for the Centaurs.

Thus was the new company of WolfTech Industries formed.

* * *

**Forbidden Forest**

He felt it. It was like someone had taken a mallet and swung it at the very center of his being with all their strength. He could _feel_ it as the familiar aura of his godfather's magic and presence was decisively ended in an abrupt and brutal manner. He could feel it as Sirius's magic vanished from his body, along with his life force, and get swept up to join the currents of ambient magic that filled the world with life around him. He didn't know who had killed him. He didn't know how he'd died. And he couldn't do anything about it.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Dudley asked from where he was seated nearby on a log, eating a small piece of venison jerky. His food was momentarily forgotten as he watched his cousin flinch and recoil all of a sudden, as though he'd been hit by a bullet in his back.

"Something…_bad_ has happened," Harry gasped out, fighting to get control of himself. He had fallen to his knees and was panting, the pain, the _pain_ of feeling Sirius's death. It was so _strong_, so _raw_! "Something is happening back at MagiTech."

"How do you know?" Dudley asked, curious. He knew his cousin was powerful, but to sense something happening all the way back in London from all the way up here in northern Scotland? That was a great deal more than he thought Harry was capable of. "What's happened?"

"I…I don't know," Harry said, looking away, unwilling to admit the one fact he did know. "But it's…it's something _very_ bad."

It was around midday and the majority of the Lycan and Centaur warriors were camped out on the edges of the Forbidden Forest, within sight of the Hogwarts grounds. The previous battle had ended not even half an hour ago and all of the fighters were exhausted. The adrenaline had died done and now stress, fear, relief, and many other feelings and emotions were at work. Seated near Harry and Dudley was also Hendrick and Bane, both of whom had been among the battle and in command of small skirmish squads themselves.

"Do not let yourself get distracted, boy," Hendrick said from where he was counting his remaining ammo clips. "We still have a job to do here. If you focus on something else, you'll make a mistake here that could be fatal. If not to you, then to someone else."

"And the Wizards will likely be sending their army against us again soon," Bane said, wiping his lightpike's staff down of blood that had somehow gotten on it.

"You sure?" Dudley asked, looking somewhat confused. "We just finished the fight and everyone's exhausted, even them!"

"Which is also the best time to send in the reserve forces," Hendrick pointed out. "it is a standard battle tactic, if the commander is anywhere competent or smart. Let the main force batter the enemy, wear them down. Then, when they think it is over and are trying to rest, catch them off guard by sending in a fresh attacking force that you'd been keeping in reserve just in case."

"Fudge is an idiot," Harry said quietly, his eyes closed as he forced himself to ignore the pain and focus on what was happening in Hogsmeade. "But…I sense that you're right… The Wizards are gathering again… They're preparing for another assault. And…"

"What is it, boy?" Hendrick asked, looking at Harry as he trailed off with a deepening frown.

"There's something strange going on," Harry admitted, looking very uneasy. "I think Fudge's people have found a way to neutralize my Sorcery and are going to try and use that against me."

"How so?" Bane asked, looking interested and somewhat confused. "There should be no way of being able to do such a thing. Sorcery is fueled by the magic of the world itself. It is limitless in its power and potential."

"But not in a dead zone," Harry said, opening his eyes to look up at the Centaur leader. "What if…What if they found a way to create a barrier that could isolate and drain the magic of an area?"

"No!" Bane barked sternly, looking downright furious at the very idea. "They cannot! To do so could have dire consequences on the world around us! Nothing could grow, nothing could _live,_ in such an area!"

"But I think they _have_," Harry said. "I've been feeling a large such area in the village for the past few hours." If Bane had been angry at the idea before, he looked absolutely apocalyptic now. "But I think they're using it to hide something or someone in it. But who or what, I don't kn—_**gah!**_"

Waves of magic suddenly crashed into Harry. He could feel it as a bright new beacon of Sorcery suddenly lit up his magical sense. Then, with no time to adjust the sudden appearance, another emerged. And another, and another, another, and many more began to flare to life. As these waves of raw magic slammed into him like a tsunami, Harry collapsed upon the ground, grabbing his head to try and cradle it against the sensory overload he was experiencing.

Dudley and Hendrick jumped to his side to try and help him, but were unable to do anything more than ignorantly ask what was happening. Bane, on the other hand, could feel what was happening, albeit very faintly due to his lack of training in the mystical arts. Alas, the most he could feel was something akin to a throbbing pain in his being as so much magic washed over him. Nothing like the raw agony that Harry was feeling.

"What's going on?!" Dudley cried out, trying to be heard over Harry's cries of pain.

"_Sorcery_," Bane hissed, glaring hatefully into the distance towards Hogsmeade. His statement quickly caught Hendrick's attention. Seeing the obvious question, Bane answered before it was asked, "It seems that the Wizards have created their own Sorcerers to match young Potter."

"…How many?" Hendrick asked, looking both outraged and discouraged. He knew, at least in part, just how much more powerful a Sorcerer was in comparison to a normal Wizard, and where a Lycan stacked against such a being. In the few spars they'd had in the past few months, Harry had always come out the victor against 5 to 1 odds, and he had clearly put no true effort into it. If the alliance had to face off against even 5 such beings, they'd be horribly outmatched and easily overrun.

"Fifty," Bane said grimly.

Hendrick's face fell as his hopes vanished.

* * *

**Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade**

"Fascinating," the Head Unspeakable said, his voice practically purring in excitement. "Truly fascinating!"

Resting upon the table in front of him was one of the recovered weapons that the Lycans and Centaurs had been using in the earlier battle. He believed that this particular weapon had been the one used by the newest Giantsbane. But that fact was a mere footnote to what had truly caught his attention, which was the strange glowing blue potion that was filled within the small detachable cartridge and a chamber at the base of the firing barrel.

As a Potions Master, the Unspeakable held a vast knowledge of all publically known and quite a few forbidden potion recipes. He could list off the ingredients needed for any particular potion off the top of his head in a heartbeat. And he could recognize the effects that a particular potion had on the user and easily guess which potion had been used. But, for all of that knowledge, he had never come across such a strange potion as what he was seeing here or could have the killing effects that it apparently possessed.

Tentatively picking up the strange and unfamiliar weapon, he held it up and pointed it to the side. Looking up next to him, his assistant held up his wand and cast a stasis field just ahead of the weapon's muzzle. Once in place, the Head Unspeakable awkwardly pulled the trigger. The recoil of the weapon was slight, but it still caught him off guard, causing him to drop it back onto the table out of surprise. But he quickly ignored it as he focused upon the captured bolt of raw magical energy that was now hovering menacingly in midair just ahead of him. From just a glance, it was quite clear that the energy bolt was struggling mightily against the magic that was holding it stationary.

"Marvelous," the Head purred, stalking around the bolt, his wand waving to and fro as he cast numerous diagnosis spells upon it. "Incredible! How could a bunch of untrained Dark Creatures be able to produce something like this without us even noticing it beforehand? The research into this must've taken years with countless failures and attempts! How could they even fathom being able to utilize this energy in such a manner?"

"From the rumors I've been hearing," his assistant said. "It might've been the Potter boy who originally created this. He did somehow discover a way of creating a sword of pure magical energy after all. And if he's truly a Sorcerer, perhaps he was just able to…conjure up the recipe through some…grandiose…Sorcery ritual?" Even as he said it, the assistant's hesitance in his own theory was obvious.

"Maybe, maybe not," the Head said neutrally. "But one thing is certain. We will have our work cut out for us in creating new shield charms to defend against this magic."

A loud knock on the door drew their attentions before the door started opening without invitation or acknowledgement. Outside stood a grim looking female Auror with long brown hair. Though her hair was different, likely unconsciously reflecting her mood, her face was easily recognizable to the Unspeakables, who made it their business to observed and study such strange magical anomalies as her. Smiling in greeting as he moved over towards her, the Head Unspeakable said, "Auror Tonks, to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Minister Fudge has just sent out his 'Specter Knights' and the Aurors," she said bluntly, her exhaustion and anger obvious in her voice. "He requests your presence at the 'forward observation post' to 'witness history in the making' as he put it."

"I see," the Unspeakable said, nodding his head as he and his assistant moved over towards the door. "Well then, let's not keep him waiting."

BOOM!

The loud impact of energy into the far wall caught all three of them by surprise. After glancing back over towards the blackened and smoking impact area, the Head turned to look over at his assistant. The honest look of surprise in his body language was enough to tell him that his assistant had not consciously dropped the stasis field around the energy bolt. The energy must've somehow managed to eat itself free of the stasis field and then just continued on its original course unimpeded. Despite the frightening implications of this, the Head Unspeakable couldn't help but shiver as excitement started running through him again. "_Fascinating!_"

Wrenching his attention back to the Auror who was now leading them out of the pub and towards the large and elevated pavilion that had been erected in the past five minutes, he couldn't help asking, "Tell me, Auror Tonks, if the Minister has launched a new strike against the enemy, why aren't you among them? …Sympathies for the Dark Creatures and their new Dark Lord, perhaps?"

"No," Tonks snapped, her tone every bit as biting as the frost of winter. "I just see this entire conflict as pointless and a waste of time. The Centaurs had done nothing that they haven't done in the past before, new weapons and allies aside. And yet we're now marching into their lands to permanently wipe them out? I will not be a part of this _genocide_ any longer!"

"Strong words for a strong opinion," the Head said neutrally, looking over at her calculating hooded eyes. It would seem that the spell hadn't taken root with her. Why was that? "Just don't let any of the Minister's followers hear them. You might draw unwanted attention from them."

"Duly noted," Tonks said dismissively as they arrived at the pavilion.

As the two Unspeakables entered it, Tonks couldn't help but sneer up at it in disgust. Whoever had designed and built this thing had the fashion sense of a medieval tyrant, it was more strongly reminiscent of a castle tower than a pavilion, in Tonks' modest opinion. Shaking her head, she moved off to the side to get a better view of the marching Auror forces as they were heading towards the Forbidden Forest yet again. From her point of view, she could see a rather obvious difference to the formation that the Wizards were moving in than the previous two times.

In the first march, they had moved in almost single file, arrogantly assuming they'd meet no resistance until they actually reached the village outskirts itself. Ironically, it was thanks to this that the causalities of that first day had been so relatively low. The second time they had attempted to enter the forest had seen them _actual_ battle formations and columns, rows upon rows of Wizards lined up in close proximity to one another, separated by the three lumbering Giants who'd accompanied them.

Now, with just over half of their original number remaining, they trudged forward in perhaps the sloppiest formation she'd ever seen. They were not in straight and even rows anymore, simply walking alongside one another in two large clumps that equally divided their forces. In contrast, standing tall and marching proudly in the center of these two unorganized clumps was a group of fifty people, who she strongly suspected were the missing Aurors from the Department, Fudge's so-called 'Specter Knights'. They were in cloaks of dark cream, hoods up and over their hair, faces hidden behind identical cream-colored masks, and all moving with the coordination of highly-trained and dangerous warriors.

Tonks hadn't been close enough to them to really make out any particular details in any of them when they'd first appeared from a random room in the Three Broomsticks. But she had been just close enough to get an eerily familiar sensation of magic breezing over and around her as they moved past. The sensation was strikingly similar to Harry's newfound Sorcery presence. But where he was warm and comforting, these masked Knights were cold and fear-inducing, moving with a purpose that promised bloodshed.

Suddenly the entire Auror force came to a halt, staring ahead at the forest. And Tonks could see why as a small, cloaked and armored figure calmly walked out of the trees and onto the Hogwarts grounds for the first time since his expulsion. In the distance, she could hear faint echoes as the numerous Auror captains and commanders began ordering their forces forward and to circle around the approaching figure. The Knights remained where they stood, not moving even as they too were encircled by the Aurors. Tonks watched as the small figure reached up and discarded his cloak, revealing the armor clad form of Harry Potter as he drew and ignited his lightsaber in preparation.

'_Whatever happens next_,' she realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach. '_It __**ends**__ here and now_.'

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Heheheheh, I may have gotten some inspiration from Littlefinger's betrayal of Eddard in Game of Thrones and the World of Warcraft: Warlords of Draenor cinematic for what happened with Sirius. I wonder how many of you saw that coming? Not many, I'd wager.

So many things have happened and so many are happening. The end of the war is coming, and probably with a different conclusion than you'd think. Granted, I'm still trying to work out the details, but I know what I'm aiming for! Hopefully the next chapter will be out as quickly as this one came, and twice as long!

And finally, huge thanks to my friend **Fiori57** for helping me to get the scenes at MagiTech just right.


	24. Grand Magic Finale, pt 1

(**Author's Note**) You can stop preaching and whining about the previous chapter. I am well aware of the fact that the incident at MagiTech isn't going to go uninvestigated. I mean, I _**LITERALLY**_ had Sirius comment on it in the chapter! I would think you guys would have a little faith in me by this point in the storyline.

Although, perhaps I should've expanded on some of Fenrir's reasoning and beliefs in the chapter. The way I envisioned Fenrir making these decisions is due to the differences in societies of the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds. The way I see the WW working is that a business (unless owned specifically by the Ministry) is _always_ a private enterprise owned by a single individual or family line (i.e. Olivander's Wand Shop). There is no such thing as an 'employee owned' business. And when the owner(s) die, the business is essentially left in limbo until either the Ministry purchases it or some other individual. What Fenrir did was basically claim the business as a spoil of war, in WW society, by killing Sirius and naming himself the new owner. And while many of you could refute by saying that Fenrir must've spent time in the Muggle World, I disagree. If he is even _half_ of the monster he is portrayed as in the Wizarding World (Werewolf curse aside), there is absolutely no way I could him being anywhere else but in a high-security prison cell. No, I think he stayed away from the Muggle World because he was raised in the Wizarding World, only going to the Muggle World to hunt or gain new pack members on occasion.

Alas, he doesn't have _FUCKING CLUE_ how businesses are run in the Muggle World. He knows MagiTech does business with them, but nothing of how it is actually conducted, the legal loopholes, and insider trading that goes on behind the scenes. To put it bluntly, he's a half-educated English pirate trying to run a multi-billion dollar Japanese computer factory while being unable to speak or read Japanese. He is _**NOT**_ going to have an easy time of it. Plus, all of the Muggle world governments are now watching and waiting for the slightest chance to seize MagiTech for themselves. And let's not forget the other MagiTech factories going up around the world. While the London branch may have fallen, who's to say _THEY'LL_ acknowledge a murderer like Fenrir as the new CEO?

I hope that this answers some of your concerns.

* * *

**The Lightsaber**  
_#24: Grand Magic Finale, Part 1_

By: Aminta Defender

**Astronomy Tower****  
****A tad earlier**

Lights flashed outside the window and Draco grimaced. Behind him stood other students, curious enough to sneak out after curfew. He could hear Granger arguing with her little Weasley. Besides him stood Zabini, and together they observed the light show.

He scowled when students let out gasps of horror as giants descended into the forest.

"We've got do something!" a Hufflepuff shouted and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Like what? We can't take down giants. They can."

As if to prove his words, a flash of orange appeared next to the giant, and then it was gone. The students in the tower murmured and a Ravenclaw, who had grabbed a telescope, shouted out in surprise. "It blew up! It blew up!"

Turning away from the captivating scene, Draco leaned against the wall, "Yes, Potter and company do the impossible again. Hurray us."

Granger scowled at him and he winced as a stinger that struck him. "Perhaps you should remember what is at stake here."

"Yes..." Draco drawled. "Some poor giants are dying. What was the oaf's name? Hagrid or so? Should we send a sorry note? Those are his brethren dying out there."

A burst of heat appeared next to his abdomen and he looked down in surprise. A young first year glared at him, holding a modified lightsaber, resembling a dagger more than a saber. He quieted as he stared at the boy, the willingness to kill shining in the eyes.

"Death Eater scum," hissed the child, "Why even bother coming here? You must be rejoicing at the death of our comrades."

"Bruce!" shouted Granger. "Leave him alone."

The lightsaber dagger—lightdagger, perhaps?—turned off and Draco couldn't resist making another stab at the kid, "Yes, listen to the mudblood... Bruce... There's nothing you can do. I only signed up to annoy the toad."

It was a lie. There were many other reasons he had decided to join this little group of resistance. The word "mudblood" tasted bitter in his mouth, but he had still said it.

Granger, though, didn't know and her old fire, long buried by Umbridge's policies, resurfaced. The wand in her hand, not the one she had gotten from Ollivander, but another one acquired through more dubious means, pointed at him, small sparks flying off of it. Zabini backed away as Weasley appeared, clutching his own lightsaber.

When she shoved him out of the door and into a small abandoned classroom, he didn't protest. When the cutting curse flew past him, cutting his cheek and causing a pearly drop of blood to be released, he didn't react. Finally, the wand lowered and she moved in closer, her eyes still livid.

"What are you playing at Malfoy?"

Raising his hands, he shook his head, "Nothing, Granger, nothing."

The wand was pointed at his chest again, "Yes Malfoy, that's the problem. You're playing at nothing! I refuse to believe that over the past few months that nothing in your views has changed. When Voldemort banned lightsabers you kept yours. When Umbridge began to confiscate our wands, you kept your silence. You never helped her but you never helped us."

Draco sneered reflexively and crossed his arms, "So? Aren't you grateful for all I've done for you? This... study group... would have never lasted this long without me. So maybe Granger you shouldn't look a gift into the mouth."

"Oh yes, " Granger hissed the wand moving into his personal bubble, "We'd be nothing if it wasn't for you. Yet when others wanted to throw you to Umbridge so they could get some reprieve from her, nothing happened. You want to know why? Because I stopped them! All of us would be slaves to her if we were just as selfish."

Having enough, Draco pulled out his own wand and glared at her, "Then what are you complaining about? Perhaps I should teach you how to respect your betters. And to make one thing clear, if the toad hadn't received permission to use veritaserum to get the truth, I'd have turned you all in." Triumphantly, he hissed, "Stupefy!"

Surprise flashed across her face and she shouted, "Protego!" The red spell dissipated against the invisible barrier, "Petrificus Totalus!"

His limbs snapped together causing him to fall to the floor with a deep thud. Surprised eyes found her face, he hadn't expected her to be so fast. _He_ was the sorcerer.

"Listen Malfoy," she began, "Your neutrality ends now. Right now Harry is beating up the Ministry and Voldemort is somewhere nearby probably watching. It's gonna be a bloodbath. It wouldn't surprise me if Umbridge called on us and forced us to march to battle. There's no neutrality here, this affects everyone."

Draco tried to scowl but his mouth refused to move. He couldn't believe that she had him at his mercy. Annoyed at himself, he tried to access his powers and do something he had seen Weasley practicing: to move objects without touching them.

The wand pointed at his temple, "You're either with us or against us, there's no other way. It may not have been declared so officially, but this is war. And in war enemies are taken care of. There's no time to be nice. Where do you stand Malfoy?"

* * *

By: Tellemicus Sundance

**Forbidden Forest, Lycan-Centaur Camp  
****April 9, 1996  
Ten minutes earlier…**

"We've lost," Harry said with solemn certainty.

Bane, Hendrick, Tanja, Magorian, and Dudley all glanced up at him. Though they didn't want to admit it, they agreed with the young Sorcerer. They all knew how powerful a Sorcerer was and they also knew that they were now heavily outnumbered.

"I can't believe that the Ministry would do this," Dudley said quietly, frowning deeply as he tried to work the pieces together. Looking back at Harry, he said, "You said that this Minister of Magic was an idiot, right?" At Harry's nod, Dudley's raised his hand to his chin thoughtfully. "If he's as stupid as you've said, then how did he think to create Sorcerers to fight against you? You've always said that Sorcerers are the boogeymen of the Wizarding World and that it's _very_ illegal. Surely he'd know that he couldn't keep this a secret forever. What's his reasoning?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted as he stood up. "But we don't time for this discussion. The Wizards are on the move again, with the Sorcerers. We're not equipped or trained to fight against Sorcerers. We'd lose quite decisively and they'd burn the village without a second thought."

"What've you got in mind, Potter?" Magorian asked frowning, not liking what the boy was saying.

"You must leave the forest," Harry said bluntly. "Load up in the _Warlock_. Go with the Lycans. Find a new place to live, far away from here."

"No!" Magorian barked angrily. "These woods have been our home for centuries! They are all that is left of our once-grand territory! To abandon them is to abandon our traditions, our magics, our way of life, our very identity!" Although he was looking at Harry, it was clear that his words were aimed at Bane and his thoughtful expression at Harry's suggestion.

"We don't _have_ _time_ for this discussion," Harry reiterated, starting to turn around and walk. "I'll go stall the Wizards. Stay or flee, the choice is yours but I'll buy you some time."

"Potter," Tanja said softly, her voice momentarily stopping Harry as he glanced at her. "What you've done for us, we may never be able to repay. Spread the hope you've given us. Thank you for all that you've done." A slight flush of embarrassment crossed Harry's face at Tanja' words. But he quickly nodded to her before turning and quickly marching away.

"Bane, we can't leave!" Magorian declared, loudly and angrily, attracting the attentions of nearby Centaurs and Lycans. "Where would we go?! The Wizards and Humans rule this planet and control its lands with an iron grip! No matter where we go, we would be hunted down! We must make our stand here and fight!" Many nearby Centaurs raised their voices in agreement with Magorian and his passionate argument.

"No, you must leave," Dudley said, climbing up onto a nearby cargo container so that he stood level with Magorian. "Leave these god-awful woods to rot in the hands of the Wizards! Let them think they have won the day! Let them believe you've turned tail and fled! Let them waste time and effort trying to find you again! You will have the last laugh!"

"You underestimate just how powerful and dangerous a Wizard hunting party can be, boy!" one of the Centaurs called out from the gathering crowd. "They always have and always will find us! Why do you think we've been trapped in these woods for so long?! They will find us if we run! They will bring us back here! And they'll _exterminate_ or _enslave_ us once again! We _**must**_ fight _here and now!_"

Dudley was unmoved by that. Instead, he grinned. "The Wizards have always won the wars before today. They think their magic is unstoppable and unbeatable! Well, look at what we've done these past two days! We've fought them! We've _killed_ them! We've _pushed them back!_ When they brought in outside help to try and overpower us, we _still_ triumphed against them! If not for these new Sorcerers, we'd have _won!_" Despite his rather heartening words, the reminder of the coming attack quickly dropped shoulders and hopes of victory.

Undeterred by the sudden drop of morale, Dudley continued, "The Wizards think they will win the day, like they always have. That they will once again beat down and cripple those who would fight against them for what they feel you don't deserve. But do not despair! Let them think they've won this battle! Years from now, your children and _children's children will look back on this day and_ _proudly say that we_ _**didn't**_ _give up! We didn't LET THEM WILL __**THE**__**WAR!**__ THEY WILL __**CHEER**__ AND __**ROJOICE**__ AND DECLARE THAT ON __**THIS DAY**__ YOU LEFT BEHIND THIS FILTHY, DARKNESS INFESTED __**PRISON**__ THAT THEY'D LOCKED YOU IN AND REDISCOVERED YOUR __**FREEDOM!**__ LET YOUR CHILDREN __**FOREVER REMEMBER**__ THIS DAY AS YOUR __**DAY OF LIBERTY!**_"

A deafening cheer roared up from the gathered Centaurs and Lycans alike, their spirits rejuvenated and now much more willing to leave the Forbidden Forest forever. Dudley's face was solemn as he looked over the cheering crowd. He wasn't sure where this speech had come from. He had only said what he'd felt needed to be said. He had only wanted to convince Magorian that Harry was right. That it was no longer safe in the Forbidden Forest and that the smartest choice would be to leave. He hadn't intended to make a big spectacle out of it. He hadn't even known that he could sway the Centaurs with just a few words like that. Maybe he should consider becoming a politician?

'_Nah, not enough excitement in that_,' Dudley decided after only a split second consideration. Below him, Bane and Tanja began bellowing orders, getting the Centaurs and voluntary Lycans to rush back to the village to grab any essentials. Jumping down from the container, Dudley returned to where he'd set his blaster. Checking its charge, he nodded in satisfaction before starting to count how many extra clips of ammo he still had. Five clips were still in his satchel, good, that meant he had easily 250 shots.

"You're going to help your cousin, aren't you?" a familiar voice asked as a large presence approached him from the side. Dudley gave Bane a firm nod as he slung his blaster rifle over his shoulder before reaching in to grab a few grenades.

"You are a good person, Dursley," Bane said, earning Dudley's attention again. "I want you know that, no matter what happens, you've been a champion and friend to the Centaurs. To every child born after this day, the name 'Dursley' will mean 'hero'."

Dudley flushed, feeling uncomfortable and pleased at the same time. "I did what I thought was right."

"Indeed," Bane acknowledged. Gesturing off to the side where Hogwarts was, he said, "Now, go out there and give them hell."

* * *

**Hogwarts Grounds**

He was surrounded by Aurors, Hitwizards, and even a couple of Unspeakables. He could recognize them based on the different colored robes they all wore. The Aurors wore their usual maroon and red, most of them were torn, muddied, and bloody at this point. The Hitwizards deep navy robes weren't much better in terms of condition. Though the grey robed Unspeakables were among some of the better ones who weren't as torn up, mostly because they were researchers and not fighters. In fact, he counted less than a dozen of them in amongst the wall of 200 maroon and navy robes.

But it was the column of cream-colored cloaks that drew and held his attention. Harry couldn't see any of their faces and expressions because of the blank masks they wore, but he didn't need to. He could feel what they were feeling. He could feel their mounting aggression. He could sense their growing impatience and eagerness, the awe and joy of feeling so much raw magic coursing through their bodies. He could pick out their over-inflated sense of self-worth and purpose and duty. But nowhere in any of that jumbled bag of emotions did he detect any remorse, reluctance to fight, or even compassion.

As he was discarding his old school robe that he'd been wearing over his armor, Harry called out to the new Sorcerers before him, "Who are you? Who do you represent?"

"Does it really matter, Potter?!" one of the Aurors to his left called out, his emotions every bit as obvious on his face as they were in his voice and presence. "We work for the Ministry and we're here to restore order!"

"You're here to enslave and exterminate a race of beings who had simply been trying to protect what little of their home they still have left," Harry corrected sternly, his gaze not leaving the silent group ahead of him.

"We're not the bad guys here, Potter!" another Auror yelled. "Just come quietly! There's been enough bloodshed already!"

"We can agree on that, at least," Harry said, even as he unclipped his lightsaber and drew out his wand. "But we all know that there's still one last fight left." Igniting and pointing his lightsaber towards the cream cloaks, he said, "And I know for a fact that none of them would accept a surrender. Not without removing my head from my body. Isn't that right, whoever you all are?"

Rather than answer verbally, the masked Sorcerers started moving, spreading out to further encircle Harry. Harry waited patiently for them to get into position. It would put him at a disadvantage if they started trying to overwhelm him with their numbers, but it was still a small amount of time that he hoped the alliance would be using to escape. Glancing around at the inner circle around him, Harry hefted up his lightsaber into a high defensive stance with one hand while his other held his wand off to the side with its tip already glowing brightly with magic. Closing his eyes, Harry reached out into the currents of turbulent magic around him, sensing, searching, waiting. With experience earned from long hours of meditating on the crystal ball, Harry allowed his conscious self to swept aside, to embrace the magic around him. He felt it as it came to him, giving him a unique 360-degree image of his surroundings, fully aware of everything. He used that new viewpoint and the emotional sensations of his aggressive opponents to predict and know what was coming.

Suddenly, he swept his lightsaber down and to the side, deflecting a curse skyward. At the same time, a transparent shield sprang out of his wand and absorbed a trio of more spells launched at him. Sensing the buildup of power and the rise of temperature behind him, Harry sprang up high in the air, somersaulting over a massive fireball that had been sent at his back. He landed lightly on his feet, watching briefly as the fireball was negated by one of the Sorcerers who'd been in front of it. Spinning around, he swung his lightsaber and deflected five more curses with ease, two of which he noted had been the Killing Curse. Raising his wand as he channeled his magic, Harry brought it down towards one side. Underneath the line of attackers, the ground suddenly turned molten and fiery, causing many of the surrounding Sorcerers and Wizards to scramble away as they fumbled for the counter-curse. Pointing two of fingers forwards from his lightsaber, Harry launched a strong telekinetic blast at another section of the rings around him. Though the Sorcerers were able to brace themselves against the attack, portions of the blast slipped through between them and sent several of the Wizards behind them flying.

'_Danger!_' his Sorcery screamed at him. Jumping up and backwards, he slid down low to the ground as a large beast passed through the space he'd formerly occupied. Looking up, he spotted a massive lion-type of golem similar to the one he'd fought with against Kingsley a while ago. '_Danger!_' Rolling to the side, he dodged a large hooked appendage as it slammed mightily down to the ground where he'd been. Rising up to his knees, he slashed upwards with his saber and hacked off a fair portion of the large stinger of a scorpion-type of golem. Continuing his swing, Harry lashed out at it with a powerful blast of lightning, charring and incapacitating it. '_Danger!_' The shaking ground around him was all the warning he needed. Leaping up, he watched as a pair of large arms and hands clapped together in an attempt to have squashed him between them. Landing lightly upon the still-clasped hands, he bounced off them and came to a stop in front of the three summoned golems, glancing over his shoulder at the gorilla-type. Standing up straight and confidently, Harry smirked as he switched off his lightsaber and pocketed his wand back in its holster on his waist.

"I see you've done your research," Harry said loudly, speaking to all of the masked attackers. "Golems are troublesome to deal with, but not unbeatable. And I've spent a _lot_ of time practicing since the last time. You'll have to do better than this."

It seemed his words had provoked several of the Sorcerers. Through unspoken agreement, the three golem controllers had their beasts momentarily cease their attack. In the following calm, Harry watched and waited as five of the Sorcerers in front of him approached. They reached into their robes and extracted some ornately colored rods, each gleaming golden or silver or some other precious metal. Then, suddenly, numerous blades of bright and deadly red sprang to life. The sight actually caused Harry to flinch back in surprise, eyes wide as he stared in disbelief. But he quickly recovered, eyes narrowing in contemplation and anger.

"I see you've found my lightsaber designs," he growled out, more furious at himself for _leaving them behind_ to be found than at the Sorcerers for actually _using_ them.

But despite his anger, he couldn't help but stare in contemplation at the different designs that were on display in front of him. Indeed, aside from the red blades that seemed to radiate with the same darkness as their owners, no two of them was alike. The first reminded Harry of a broadsword, with two smaller extensions at the base of the blade. The second's blade wasn't rigged and straight, but hung out of the emitter shroud like a whip. The third was actually a lightpike, though the blade was admittedly longer than the half-blades the Centaurs preferred to use. The fourth's handle was at least double the usual length and had a blade sprouting out of either end of the hilt, forming a staff-type of weapon. And the last weapon was definitely the most bizarre and interesting, a double-bladed weapon that had the two emitters mounted on a ring-like structure that was sending the blades spinning at high speeds. A quick glance at each of the Sorcerers told what he feared. They _all_ had lightsabers.

"Let's see how good those new designs are," Harry offered, holding up his lightsaber in a defensive stance.

As seemed to be the case, none of the lightsaber wielders said anything. Instead, two of them leapt forward in tremendously powerful jumps that no non-Sorcerer could've achieved. Bringing his lightsaber up, Harry parried the stabbing crossguard saber to the side, incidentally also interrupting the spinning blades of the ringed-saberstaff and causing the attacker to stumble back. The crossguard came up from that low position in a swing for Harry's legs. Having sensed and anticipated that strike, Harry somersaulted away and was forced to dodge again as the gorilla raised its arms for a strike. Growling slightly in annoyance, Harry reached out and grabbed the gorilla's closest arm. With just a flex of his magic, he launched it into the gorilla's arm, searching for fault lines and the veins of magic that held it together. Within just a split second, the light exploded from those fault lines and veins throughout the entire creature's body. The eruption of light and Harry's intruding magic caused the rock to crumble and collapse, the gorilla disintegrating before him.

Harry grinned in triumph, he'd been yearning to exercise that particular technique he'd learned from the crystal ball for some time. But his elation was short-lived as he was forced to spin around and hold up his lightsaber defensively. Through an exercise of the user's will, the lightwhip that his blade intercepted suddenly coiled tightly around his blade and held on tightly, preventing him from moving it. Frowning, Harry tried pulling it free but he saw crossguard and lightpike on the attack. Hitting his saber's button, he switched it off, catching the whip-user by surprise as the weapon suddenly went slack and fell limply to the ground. He thrust his arms out to the sides and blasted the crossguard and pike away. Switching his saber back on, he caught the attacking saberstaff in one hand while jabbing his free hand to side and launching lightning from his fingertips at the spinning saberstaff. As freaky and dangerous as those spinning blades were, they weren't meant to catch an attack like lightning due to their rotating nature. The lightning easily slipped past the spinning blades and struck the user, only momentarily but it was still enough to send the person to the ground in electric agony.

Rotating his saber to catch the rising second blade of the saberstaff, Harry kicked out suddenly and caught the user in the stomach, knocking them back and away. Once that attacker was safely away, the whip-user launched his weapon forward. With his magic boosting his speed tremendously, Harry ducked under the snapping whip and launched himself forward in a slide, his blade little more than a rising blur of blue. There was an audible metallic clipping sound as his blade sliced through the emitter shroud just above the fingers of the Sorcerer, catching the person by surprise who stared down at the precisely severed hilt with all but obvious awe. Not wasting the opportunity, Harry drew out his wand and launched a Stunner practically pointblank into the Sorcerer, sending them spinning up and backwards into the wall of Aurors beyond.

A loud roar alerted Harry to the onrushing lion golem. Turning he held out his hand and caught the lion in his grip, picking it up, and throwing it as far away as he could. It would eventually come to land and disintegrate in the Black Lake behind Hogwarts off in the distance. Sensing danger again, he spun around and held up his lightsaber, catching the swinging blades of the crossguard and saberstaff and pushing against them in a blade lock.

Grunting and heaving for breath as he fought against the combined strengths of both opponents, Harry glared up at their masked faces. He knew that he was in trouble. It was taking all he had just to keep up with these guys! If they were trying to win through a war of attrition, they were definitely on the right track. He knew that in a battle of pure magical might, even as heavily outnumbered as he was, he could probably still win. But when he had to also fight against lightsaber-wielding enemies at the same time? He was going to lose, most assuredly.

* * *

By: Aminta Defender

**Within Hogwarts**

When the ministry revealed their latest card, gasps went throughout the room. He hardly heard them though as he too of running, his feet pounding against the stone floor. Somewhere an Umbridge enforcer yelled and a spell came to his lips. The student who had dared to betray Hogwarts fell down to the ground in a dead faint.

"At it lass!" Shouted the portrait next to him and he spared a glance at the strange knight, "_Don't_ dally, you silly boy! A quest you have and complete it you must."

He took off running again, but he could have sworn that the portrait murmured, "Just like Myrddin," whoever the hell that was. It didn't matter though as he neared the window of the second floor. Time was of the essence. Magic coiled around him and stirred like a dragon rising from its long slumber. Whatever was happening though was pushed out of his mind as he approached the window. Focus on the present. His best mate needed him.

He jumped.

A few spells shot through the empty air that he had once occupied. The traitors were too late to stop him. Soon they'd pay for their crimes.

* * *

By: Tellemicus Sundance

**Shrieking Shack**

It was silent in the shack. Too silent. If one were to have been inside it at that time, they'd have felt like they'd been dowsed in a freezing cold rain, so terribly cold that it burned. Their survival instincts would've been screaming at them to flee as fast and far as they could possibly go. They would've felt like there was a terrible, frothing beast inside and it was just seconds away from pouncing and squeezing the life out of their bodies. Indeed, that was the aura that had descended so heavily upon the Shrieking Shack. The aura was so oppressively powerful that it was even felt in the nearby village of Hogsmeade, adding further credence to the rumor of being haunted, and causing many people nearby fearful of even glancing up at the building.

From their kneeling positions, all of the gathered Dark Wizards were glaring in silent rage at the images they were seeing in the window they'd created. Each of them were as furious as the next, though some of them were hiding it better than others. Voldemort was one of them, although the ominous glow of his red eyes were more than enough to expose his own wrath.

He knew what he was seeing. Those glowing blades that sprouted from metallic hilts could only be one thing. He had instructed, quite clearly, that those weapons were to never be used or created again. And yet, here was not only the original weapon but many, many more of them! He could not let this stand! He would not let these abominations remain! Clearly, he would have to _personally_ handle the situation himself since no one else seemed to understand the overwhelming importance of his decree.

Just as he was about to rise to his feet, he paused. If he were to go out there now, he'd expose himself to the Ministry as a whole and the Minister himself. That was something he really didn't want to do just yet. The Ministry had been making things _so easy_ for him these past few months, allowing him to rebuild much of his old power base. If possible, he wanted to extend that for as long as he could to better and further undermine the Ministry from within. Not only that, but the remains of the entire Auror Corps were out there on the field. As powerful and skilled as he was, even _he_ hesitated to face more than 200 Wizards of notable caliber like that. But then again, they were much more focused on detaining and capturing the Potter boy, who was busy fighting for his life. To compound matters, there was the new police force out there that he hadn't even known about beforehand. While the magic they used wasn't anything new or exceptional beyond the common Auror-level spells and curses, the fact that they could keep up Potter was both interesting and foreboding.

'_But if I don't strike __**now**__, I may never again get the chance to destroy __**all**__ of those weapons at the same time_,' Voldemort rationalized. It was a very tempting desire and an extremely conflicting moment of indecision for the Dark Lord. He carefully contemplated the pros and cons of each action and inaction, how they could affect his plans for the future, who had the most gain for either choice, and most importantly how he could turn this to his advantage.

But as he was glared down at the image, he saw something that he hadn't before. Harry Potter was _panting_. The fight was tiring him out. How often could that happen to a Sorcerer? And as much as he wanted to remain hidden, Voldemort suddenly found himself a golden opportunity. Killing the boy would be so much _easier_ when he was tired and unable to fight at his best. And he wanted to kill the boy, _personally_. To finish what he'd started all those years ago. And if he had to expose himself to the Wizarding World as a whole to do so…all the better! The thought of having them watch his triumphant return while simultaneously watching their best hope of defeating him get executed in the same instant? Ooooh, the thought was giving him goosebumps of eagerness!

Standing abruptly to his feet, the ritual of maintaining the window was shattered by his movement. As the magic faded and the window vanished from existence, along with the large basin it had been in, Voldemort gazed around his circle of followers. Raising his hand towards Bellatrix, who was the closest to him, he grasped her forearm and pressed his wand to her Dark Mark, sending a surge of magic into it and activating the summoning for his followers. He released her a moment later as a series of pops and cracks filled the air around them. He did a quick count and saw that almost a hundred new arrivals had answered his call, filling up the Shrieking Shack to almost past its capacity. Most of them were young new recruits who'd joined since his rebirth or 'redeemed' old members. Nearly all of them were worthless individually, but together they would make for good cannon-fodder against the Aurors while he hunted down Harry Potter and those new lightsaber-wielding Auror force.

"It is time to reveal ourselves!" he cried out. Pointing out the window towards Hogwarts, he declared, "The Ministry has brought all of its Aurors to exterminate the Centaurs, but instead _they_ have been destroyed! The Aurors are less than _half_ of their original number! Come, my friends! Let us go _help_ the Centaurs in their fight against the Ministry!"

Though most of them didn't understand the context or reasoning behind Voldemort's decision, all of them realized just what he apparently wished to accomplish. By destroying or crippling the Auror force completely, they'd face far less resistance when they marched to conquer the Ministry later on. And by them focusing on the Centaur herd ahead of them, they wouldn't be watching for the Killing Curse that shot up behind them!

A deafening roar of battle-lust filled the shack as the Death Eaters and their Dark Lord prepared to attack.

* * *

**Hagrid's Hut**

"Bloody hell," Moody couldn't help uttering in astonishment, his magical eye focused solely upon the massive clash that was happening just a few dozen meters away from Hagrid's hut. "That is…an _intense_ fight." And as much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he was finding himself feeling quite a bit impressed by the evil little sorcerer and his opponents. It was times like these that really made him feel his age and the many injuries he'd sustained.

"I…I don't understand," Doge said quietly, looking both very concerned and scared in equal parts. "Where did they get those weapons? What are they anyway?"

"Forget that!" Hagrid said urgently, very worried as he too stared out the window. "We need to help Harry!"

"No!" Moody barked immediately. "This mess is the boy's own fault! Let him deal with the consequences!"

"But he's just a child!" Hagrid said imploringly, looking around quickly at the others. Finally, he looked over at Dumbledore, who was eerily silent as he stared at the window. "Dumbledore, please! Tell him we need to help Harry!"

Before Dumbledore could so much as move his lips, Vance spoke up, "I agree with Moody. None of this would've happened if the boy had been smart and stayed where we could protect him, especially from himself. He will never learn if he doesn't have to face his mistakes and bear the consequences." Hagrid glared angrily at Vance for that remark.

From where he was cowering at the side, Fletcher quietly said, "And _I'd_ rather not go out there and get caught in that shitstorm! Have you seen how _fast_ their moving or the types of spells they're using?!"

Diggle quickly added, "We would need an army to go out there with any hopes of even doing anything anyway. We're only seven people here!"

"And yet there's only one boy out there taking on an army!" Hagrid said angrily, glaring at all of the gathered Phoenix members. Looking back at Dumbledore, his expression turned pleading. "Professor, please! We need to help Harry!"

All eyes glanced over at the as-yet-silent Wizard, who was still gazing out at the battle with a contemplating gaze in his eyes. He was carefully watching and analyzing. A few short moments ago, Harry had pulled a simple but brilliant trick. He'd created a large circular platform around where he was standing, raising him two feet in the air. Not only did this give him a better field of vision, but it was just at the right height to make it difficult to climb onto, slowing his attackers from reaching him. Along with the fact that it was barely five paces across, too little space for more than three people to be on and fight with those light-sword weapons of theirs. This gave the boy a much-needed advantage.

"We will wait, for the time being," Dumbledore said firmly, his voice soft but carrying. He glanced at his minions as they looked at him questioningly, Hagrid looking especially betrayed for a moment. "Not because we're outnumbered or that Harry doesn't need the help. No, we'll wait because this fight is something very important to the Ministry. Important enough that I know Tom will be here nearby, also watching. He will see that the Aurors have been losing this war, that the Minister has created a new fighting force, and, most importantly, that Harry seems to be losing."

"You wanna use the boy as bait to draw out Voldemort," Moody guessed, ignoring the others as they flinched at the name.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, nodding. "He will see weakness in the Aurors and Harry. He will most assuredly want to capitalize on this. And he will not like seeing so many of those light-swords that Harry created being used. Severus had informed me that he wanted all such weapons destroyed when he learned of them. He will attack, and likely very soon. Prepare yourselves."

"What are our objectives?" Moody demanded, already falling into his combat mindset.

"We will help the Aurors fight against the Death Eaters," Dumbledore said immediately. "We will try to delay Voldemort from reaching Harry. But, most importantly of all, we must make it obvious that we are aiding the _Ministry_ against Voldemort, not helping Harry escape or his fight with the Centaurs."

"But, Professor—!" Hagrid said, objecting to that last declaration.

"For the moment, Hagrid," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "The Ministry sees Harry as an evil Sorcerer inciting war with the Centaurs against them. While I am sure that is not the case, we cannot act too rashly before we know the truth. For all we know, as sad as it is to admit, Harry's motivations for helping the Centaurs are still unknown and could be potentially as bad as the Minister would have us believe. We must wait to learn what he's been trying to achieve here before we take action for or against him."

"Finally starting to realize the truth, eh, Dumbledore?" Moody asked gruffly. The old man was stubborn, but this issue had really getting on his nerves with his reluctance to see the obvious writing on the wall.

"Guys," Doge said, gesturing out the window. "Am I seeing things or is that…?" The Order of the Phoenix quickly returned its gaze back out the window and stared with wide eyes at what they saw.

* * *

**Forbidden Forest**

Nestled behind a fallen tree trunk that one of the Giants had knocked over earlier, Dudley carefully aimed his rifle, sighting through the scope. He couldn't help smiling as he watched his cousin out there single-handedly take one a whole army. He had known Harry was an impressive fighter for some time, but it was still heartening to see it firsthand. Harry was completely dominating the fight upon that platform he'd created. Each time one of those lightsaber cream-cloaked guys managed to jump up on it, Harry would spin around to face him, block or parry a few strikes before pushing, kicking, or blasting them back off the platform and into the circle of the navy and maroon cloaked Wizards. Each time the Aurors or the Specters would try to swarm him with spells and curses, his lightsaber would begin to spin around his body so fast it was little more than a blue blur, deflecting any and all magic that came his way. For magic he couldn't deflect, a translucent blue shield would form around him from his wand and absorb the attack easily.

But as incredible as Harry was, Dudley could see that he was really starting to tire out. His moves were getting just a little bit slower, his reaction times dulling, he was having more trouble pushing a man out of the circle, he was breathing heavier and sweating quite noticeably hard under his armor. They were wearing him out by overwhelming numbers and lack of rest, not giving him a chance to recharge his spent magic. His perception of the fight was starting to lessen and narrow, making his somewhat less aware of his surroundings and impending danger.

Like the new Specter that had jumped up on the platform behind him, red lightsaber raised and already starting to swing towards his exposed back. Dudley saw the shot and immediately took it, squeezing the trigger. The bolt struck the Specter right in the side of his head, blowing out his brains in a shower of gore and throwing him bodily to the side in the process. Harry flinched at the sudden death, turning and glaring over at Dudley. Dudley could tell that Harry immediately knew where he was, just from the look in his eyes. But despite the disapproving frown, he gave him a subtle nod of thanks before spinning around catching another attacker's blade.

Turning his scope slightly, Dudley saw one of the gathered Specters hefting up his lightpike in preparation to hurl like a javelin. Just before the man could, Dudley fired again and caught the man square in the chest, killing him instantly. By this time, the Aurors and Specters had managed to pinpoint the general direction his shots were coming from. The closest Aurors to him turned and started throwing up shields while the Specters began keeping closer watch in his direction. Smirking at the challenge, Dudley fired his rifle again. But instead of aiming for the Wizards or Specters, he did something unexpected. His bolt clipped the blade of the attacking Specter Harry was facing, ricocheting off and flying in a different direction, coincidentally striking one of the other Specters who had been caught by surprise. '_How'd you like __**that**__ trick, you inbred bastards?_'

As the gathered Wizards flinched back from the completely unexpected kill shot, Dudley fired again. This time he deliberately aimed at the ground in front of the feet of one of the shield-bearing Aurors. The Wizard visibly jumped in fright as his concentration on his charm faltered and the shield died. Immediately, Dudley fired again, aiming over the Wizard's shoulder and hitting the Specter behind him in the back. Just as he was about to shoot again, he stopped when he spotted something out of the corner of his scope. And he wasn't the only one who stopped.

A series of green lights suddenly flew forward into the crowd and slammed into at least twenty of the gathered Aurors, all of them getting thrown forward and collapsing lifelessly on the ground at the base of Harry's platform. The rest of the Aurors and Specters all stopped their fighting as their suddenly turned to the side in surprise at where the new attack came from. What they saw caused many loud cries of panic and disbelief, loud enough for even Hogwarts students off in the distance to hear.

With Voldemort at the front and a massive snake of some kind at his side, an army of Death Eaters stood before them. All of them were clad in flowing black cloaks that seemed more like captured smoke and mist than actual clothing and were wearing gleaming masks of silver shaped in the likeness of skulls. All except for Voldemort at least. His face was unmasked, but Dudley dearly wished it was. He was sickly pale, with a flat, slitted snake-like nose, and glowing red eyes that held nothing but malice in them. The triumphant sneer on that face was every bit as hideous as could be imagined as the Dark Lord gazed upon the panicking Aurors, Hitwizards, and even a few of the newly-minted Specters.

Dudley, however, was frowning. He could see Voldemort's lips moving, likely making a speech of some sort to the gathered crowd of his enemies, but Dudley couldn't hear it. Not that he would've cared what that monster was saying anyway. Instead, he sighted down his scope yet again and pulled the trigger, aiming for Voldemort's black heart. Voldemort must've heard the shot, for he turned in its direction and held up his wand. A shield as black and gleaming as obsidian materialized just in front of him as the bolt neared him, absorbing the shot as easily as a stonewall. Lowering the shield slightly, a now frowning Voldemort glared off in the distance where Dudley was hiding. Despite himself, Dudley couldn't stop the slight shiver that ran down his spine when those red eyes turned towards him.

After just a moment though, Voldemort turned and gestured his free arm forward. With a loud battle cry, the gathered Death Eaters roared as they surged forward. Even though they outnumbered them at nearly two to one, Dudley blinked in surprise when many of the Aurors and Hitwizards turned to flee rather than stand and fight. "What a bunch of bloody cowards," he muttered darkly, glaring at the fleeing Wizards.

Though, to their credit, the number of fleeing Aurors was substantially fewer than it could've been. And none of the Specters fled, instead they simply turned back to Harry. Harry had used that little distraction to the best of his ability, drawing in as much magic as he could while trying to catch his breath. It may have given him his second wind, but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough to face the remaining 45 Specters alone. Then, to Dudley's great surprise, the gathered Specters were suddenly blown to the side on one portion of the circle by an invisible telekinetic blast. Looking back the way it had come from, Dudley had just enough time to catch a flash of red before a figure dressed in the black robes of Hogwarts dropped down beside Harry. The new person immediately swept his hands out and to the sides, launching another powerful blast of telekinesis and sweeping aside even more of the Specters.

He didn't recognize the face, but the red hair and freckles easily clued Dudley in that this must've been one of Harry's much talked about friends, Ron if he remembered right. Grasping something from his pocket, Ron held up and ignited his own blue lightsaber blade as he positioned himself at Harry's back. After a moment of talking to one another, the two reunited friends surged forward to attack the quickly-recovering Specters. If Harry had been impressive on his own, him working alongside his friend who was also clearly a Sorcerer was just flat-out amazing! The two seemed to fall into a synchronized fighting unit, Harry defending and supplementing with occasional magic attacks while Ron was all about offense and off-balancing their enemies. And, unlike Harry, Ron didn't seem to hold much value for the lives of the Specters. Whenever he had the chance, Ron would hack off or stab through a Specter's limb, whether an arm, leg, or even his head. Harry seemed to try to dissuade Ron at first, but a few yelled comments from the redhead soon had Harry reluctantly following his example. Dudley found himself nodding in approval. _Finally,_ Harry was no longer holding back!

Pulling back from his scope, Dudley surveyed the battle as a whole and it was incredible! Unlike the second battle, where the Lycans and Centaurs were sniping at the Wizards from the forest, the Aurors' battle lines were actually holding remarkably well. Despite the many bizarre types of magic that were being thrown about, the battle strongly reminded Dudley of a documentary he'd seen in school about ancient battles during the Middle Ages. But, unlike with their Muggle counterparts, neither side of the Wizards were really trying to close the distance, always trying to maintain a comfortable breathing space between each other. While the Aurors outnumbered the Death Eaters, the Dark Wizards seemed to be at the advantage because of their more liberal use of dark curses, particularly the green killing curse. More Aurors were dropping dead or forced to break the lines to dodge due to those spells than the Death Eaters were. It was a very impressive battle, just by the sheer size and scope of it.

But most impressively, in a very dark and foreboding way, was the way that the Dark Lord himself was handling the battle. Unlike his minions, Voldemort was closing the distance, walking with a serpentine grace that was identical to the snake at his feet. Few of the Aurors seemed brave enough to attack him or the snake directly. What few that did had their spells easily batted aside as though they were mere nuisances to him, without him even breaking his stride in the slightest. He responded to those attacks by viciously launching dark spells of his own straight back the fools who'd dare attack him. Dudley could guess just from the direction he was walking that he was heading for Harry's side of the battle.

Movement off to the side caught Dudley's eye. It was a small group of Wizards hurrying to join the battle, seeming having been hiding or watching from that shack that was positioned near the forest edge. Though the distance was considerable, Dudley had little trouble recognizing the long white beard and bizarrely-colored, shimmering cloak that that Dumbledore guy seemed so fond of wearing. And aside from that crazy, mad-eyed bastard who'd attacked him in Mr. Black's old home, the rest of the group were strangers. But he was willing to bet they were also members of Dumbledore's little club as well. It was actually pretty entertaining to watch Dumbledore slam into the Death Eater side of the battle with all the power and devastation of a tidal wave striking a port. The fearsome black Death Eaters just gave way to the old man's magic, some even turning and fleeing from the very sight of him!

Bringing his gaze back to his scope, Dudley sighted down it and started taking shots at the Dark Wizards. '_Like shooting fish in a barrel, I barely even have to aim_,' Dudley thought, smirking slightly as he shot down an especially large and brutish shaped Death Eater. After taking that shot, Dudley heard the familiar cracking pops of teleportation around and behind him. '_**Dammit**__, I forgot to change positions!_'

Climbing to his feet, Dudley started running to the side, towards a large set of boulders and foliage. As he ran, he swung his rifle over towards the nearest _pop_ and opened fire. He didn't see it, but he did hear the man cry out in pain as he was struck. In answer to that, several voices started shouting out names of spells as they attacked, most of which he didn't recognize due to the weird incantations. Throwing himself to the side, he dodged what looked like a scything blade of energy, a small but fast bullet-shaped piercing curse, and a red stunner. Mounting a fallen tree trunk, he threw himself up and into a flip, shooting his rifle as he caught a glimpse of another wizard. The shot hit the man in the chest, cutting him down.

Landing in a tumble, Dudley shot back backwards to his feet, keeping his front to the wizards as he shot again. This shot didn't hit the wizard, but the tree trunk he was hiding behind, blowing up the trunk and showering the man's face with deadly wooden splinters and shrapnel. Continuing to back away, Dudley fired again at the next wizard, missing his shoulder by an inch. In return, the masked man's curse struck Dudley dead center in his chest, knocking him backwards and yanking his rifle forcefully from his grasp. With a loud cry, he landed heavily in the midst of the boulder pile that he'd been running for.

Panting heavily, he fumbled for his satchel. Pulling out two vials of potion, he quickly drank them down. The potions were a strengthening elixir that boosted his strength, and a quickening agent that heightened his reflexes and senses tremendously. Of course, as a Muggle with no innate magic to speak of, these particular types of potions were only temporary boosts of ability. '_Gotta stall, wait for them to kick them_,' he realized. But even as he did, he could feel his sense of hearing already starting to grow stronger and more sensitive. He could hear the sounds of the boots of those damn Death Eaters as they crushed the dead and rotted undergrowth. Just from the sounds of those footsteps, he could tell they were starting to advance on him, trying to start circling around and flank him.

Climbing to his feet but staying crouched behind the boulders, he grinned as an idea came to him. "Hey!" he called out, poking his head up. He had enough time to see several of them before he had to duck back down as a jagged bolt of lightning flew where his head had been. Apparently, they weren't willing to take any chances with him.

"WAIT!" he cried, thrusting his hands up over the boulder in a surrendering gesture. Thankfully, the Death Eaters hesitated, curious as to what he had to say. "You're probably wondering '_this guy's the hero, so why wear a mask_,' right? Well, that's so _bad guys _and my_ adoring fans_ can't follow me home!" He waited for a second, practically able to hear the eyebrows rise in men's disbelief at his ridiculous statement.

That was when he could feel a fountain of strength beginning to grow within his chest and quickly spreading towards his limbs. '_Almost ready_.' Grinning even more broadly, he used one hand to point towards one of them, "This guy's got the right idea. Yeah! He wore the _brown pants_ so you guys can't see him _shit himself!_"

In response, the selected individual cast a curse at the boulder. Dudley quickly ducked down underneath the boulder, just in time before it literally and violently exploded in a shower of dust and shrapnel. Waiting for a long few moments while holding his ringing ears in pain, he saw the dust starting to settle and revealing that his hiding spot had been compromised. Standing back to his feet and holding his hands forward again in a surrendering gesture, he cried out, "_Wait! Wait! Wait!_ You guys only _work_ for that no-nosed, red-eyed, cock-sucking _psychopath!_ So here's what I'm going to do! I'm going to give you all the chance to _lay down your wands_ and in exchange for preferential, bordering on 'gentle', _possibly_…even lover-like treatment!"

Even without his newly-enhanced senses, Dudley could've seen the sudden tensing in rage that passed between all of the five men. As the Death Eaters were in the midst of casting five simultaneous Killing Curses, Dudley had already dropped back into a deep crouch position, hiding behind the remainder of his boulder shelter. The five curses passed over his head with hair-raising proximity before impacting harmlessly against the boulder behind him. Yanking out his two pistols, he called out, "Fine! Commando-style!"

With a mighty leap that far exceeded anything he could've done under his own power, Dudley jumped upwards in a spin, dodging the fast follow-up curse of one particularly fast Death Eater. As he spinning, he popped of a shot and hit the same man right in the head, blowing out his masked face. "One!"

The sudden retaliatory strike caused the others to flinch away from the newly-made corpse as they stared down at it in horrified surprised. In the time it took them to return their attention back to him, Dudley had already landed and was lunging forward. Firing twice more, he hit another wizard in both his knees, dropping him to the ground with loud cries of agony as his legs were blow out at unnatural angles. "Two!"

The three remaining wizards quickly teleported away, finding new spots to hide behind around him. Turning towards one of them, he bounced to the side as he held up his pistol, shooting into the tree. Unlike with the rifle, the less powerful pistol shots didn't deeply penetrate or otherwise affect the tree. But that was okay, he was already grabbing one of his grenades, pulling the pin with his thumb before gently tossing it towards the tree. Of course, 'gently' was a relative term since the bomb struck the tree hard enough to embed it within its trunk. Nonetheless, the unexpected attack caused the Death Eater to flinch in surprise away from the swaying tree, but also froze him in place. By the time he started to recover, the grenade exploded, consuming him and the tree in a fiery maelstrom.

"Y es _tres!_" Dudley laughed out as he gave a little victory dance. This new level of strength was amazing! Was this what it felt like to be a Sorcerer? He'd seen Harry lift some pretty heavy objects since they'd been reunited without any strain and without the aid of any magic that he could identify. If this was even close to that level of strength, Dudley was finding himself suddenly momentarily but very deeply jealous of his cousin.

That was when he was shot in the ass – literally! – by a powerful stinging curse that sent him sprawling to the ground. In his tumble, his head slammed into a nearby rock with enough force to actually crack it, jumbling his mind. He just laid there limply, seemingly dead to the world as the last two Death Eaters cautiously approached him. When they were close enough that dodging was impossible, he lifted the pistol that was wedged between his legs and shot, hitting the man in the chest. As the man dropped dead, the final Death Eater popped away to a new hiding spot.

"Fooouuuurrrr," Dudley groaned out as he rolled over and gingerly pushed himself back to his feet, being very careful to not jostle or strain his injured rear. "Ugh! Ow! Right up Main Street!"

Pulling himself up into a semi-erect stance, Dudley took a long breath, trying to sooth the stinging pain in his prostate. Turning as he heard the _pop!_ of the last Death Eater reappearing nearby, he spotted the man standing upon the same rock pile that he'd hidden in earlier. Taking another of his grenades, he casually tossed it towards the man without even pulling the pin. Quite expectedly, he heard the man teleport away before the grenade even landed and _pop_ back just a few meters off to his side. Raising his other arm, he took the shot and hit the man right in the chest, knocking him back and down. "And five."

Looking around at the massacre he'd just dished out, Dudley couldn't help muttering, "Maybe I should make a _living_ of this? I'm pretty good at _killing wizards_." Then a strange thought struck him and caused his near-jovial mood to instantly turn glum. "Dad would be so proud."

* * *

By: Aminta Defender

**Abandoned Classroom**

He stared at the unwavering wand, trying to get his mouth to move. He could feel her strength, her intent; nothing would stand in her way. Should he refuse, she'd destroy him. His mouth still refused to move though. Slowly he stretched out his senses and poked her mind, trying to get her attention.

She showed no sign of noticing his attempts. Trying to gather more strength to poke her mind again, he was interrupted by the door banging open.

"Sorcerers!" cried a young Slytherin, "They've got sorcerers! Sith alert, Sith alert!"

Granger turned away from him, lowering her wand, "What?"

"Fudge, Fudge, hehassorcersandthey'reattackingPotter!"

The lapse in concentration let him break free of the spell, "Slow down, dimwit. We have no idea what you're trying to say!"

The girl took a deep breath, "The centaurs beat back the giants but then Fudge came back with these other people with lightsabers, red lightsabers. They're Sith! Ron said Harry needed help against the evil sorcerers and then Fudge's army attacked and then Ron ran away!"

"What?!" shrieked Granger.

"Ron went to fight," the girl clarified. "Then the Mark went up into the air and You-Know-Who and his minions attacked."

Draco blinked, "Umbridge has minions? She left her office?"

Groaning, the Slytherin again clarified. "No, You-Know-Who! Vol-Vold-Voldemort! The Death Eaters!"

The decision was made, not out of fear, but because it felt right. The power within him coiled happily like an eager snake, it agreed. He couldn't stand by anymore. The decision had already been made before, now it was time to declare it. He would fight, fight for Hogwarts, for his... friends, for what was right.

"What are we standing about for? Let's show them what we've got!" He declared, the lightsaber flying into his hand.

Granger smiled at him. "Get the twins. We'll need their help. But let me be clear, anyone who hasn't been cleared by me personally isn't going into the field."

The student nodded and ran off to find the twins.

"May I go, General?" He asked mockingly, he wouldn't bow to anyone.

She nodded, "Yes." He turned to leave, "Malfoy wait."

He stopped and she held out a foreign black object. He grabbed it, noticing the peculiar shape and the strange weight it had.

"What is it?"

She smiled slightly, "A gun. In case you need it."

He looked at the strange object. It looked nothing like the rumored objects of deaths the muggles were supposed to have. It was a forbidden object for a wizard.

"I always imagined them to be longer. How does it work?"

"If it were any longer, Malfoy, it'd be a rifle," she said, pointing to the gun. "There's the safety. You reload here. Press that to fire."

He nodded and stared at the tiny thing capable of killing a full grown wizard. "Is it safe?"

"It kills, Malfoy. The bullet moves faster than the speed of sound. If the bullet doesn't kill, Malfoy, your target will still be in too much shock and pain to do anything... As long as you hit the target, also be aware that firing it is loud."

He nodded and gingerly looked it over again, making sure the safety was on before tucking it away in his cloak, "See you soon, Granger. I'd prep the infirmary."

"Don't worry Malfoy. We have a plan to lure the toad and her consorts out. Go make sure that Ron doesn't get killed in his stupidity."

Laughing, he saluted, "Aye Aye Captain!"

It was time to face his father.

* * *

By: Tellemicus Sundance

**Hogwarts Grounds**

He could feel it, like a dark storm crossing the horizon. Voldemort was coming closer and he was coming for _him_. Swing his saber, Harry deflected two more curses from the attacking Specters. Sweeping his blade back, he parried a stab and blocked a swing from the two in front of him. He could feel Ron's back pressed up against his own shifting and moving as the young Weasley fought off three more Specters with an ease that was quite surprising.

"You've been practicing, Ron," Harry observed, having to speak loudly over the clashes and explosions that were taking place around them.

"Yeah, Draco took Hermione's saber," Ron replied. "After she made me this one and with what happened with Crabbe and Goyle, we started practicing together every so often. It really helps when you've got a sparring partner."

"I envy you," Harry said bitterly. "I was only ever able to train with Dobby and my cousin. While they're both great fighters in their own way, they just don't have the strength or endurance to keep up."

"Or the stature!" Ron quipped, glancing back at Harry with a slight grin on his face.

"That too," Harry admitted.

"EXPULSO!" A large section of the Specter ring around them blew skywards, causing all of them to freeze momentarily as they took in the sight of the new fighter joining their midst. It was Hermione, holding her fist in the air with a brightly shining green crystal clasped between her fingers. Behind her, Harry could faintly see a line of mid- to upper-year students standing out in the grass field about a hundred paces away, lined up in a defensive formation with a wall of shields formed. If nothing else, Harry could guess they were likely here to form a perimeter against those who would stray too close to the school.

"Late to the party again, Hermione?" Harry called, smiling happily at seeing his last friend returned to him.

"Unlike _some people_, I don't drink _dangerous_ and _unknown_ potions whenever I'm feeling powerless," Hermione snapped, thrusting her crystal to the side and launching a green colored spell at one of the Specters who'd started to rush her. Instead of the spell being predictably batted aside, it exploded against the magical plasma blade, throwing the Specter head over heels backwards. "Besides, _someone_ needs to keep an eye on you two!"

Ron and Harry laughed as a sense of nostalgia washed over them. It was just like old times! Well…maybe not _just_ _like_ old times, but close enough!

That was when they sensed a familiar spike of hostility. All of them, even the Specters, turned and looked at the source of malevolent darkness that was now only a few short paces outside the ring. With just one nonchalant wave of his wand, Voldemort silently cast three Killing Curses in rapid succession, all of which struck the unprepared and even fearful Specters closest to him head-on. The sudden deaths were prompt enough for the rest of the Specters near him to back away, holding their lightsabers or wands in defensive stances.

"I have only one thing to say to all of _you_," Voldemort said softly, though his voice easily carried to all of his listeners as his gaze swept over all of the gathered Specters. "Those weapons are _abominations_ of magic created by an ignorant upstart. If you destroy them, _all_ of them, _**now**_, I will spare you from any more consequences." Returning his attention back to his primary target, Voldemort sneered at seeing Harry's sweating and exhausted form. "For you, _Harry Potter_, we have some _unfinished business_ to attend to."

For a moment, Harry just glared at the creature who was more monster than man. Drawing in a deep breath and as much magic as he could to augment his fading reserves, Harry took the moment to assess the situation, the combatants, and the feeling of the magic in the air. The battle between the Aurors and Death Eaters was swaying back and forth as each side fought for dominance. He could feel it each time a Wizard or Witch was killed and their magic was cast out to join that of the world's around them. He could feel their fear, aggression, hatred, glee, and confidence as they fought against those their enemies. The large audience of watchers was a wide and vast kaleidoscope of emotions. Harry found it easier to associate those emotions to colors rather than individual emotions, creating a vast canvas of brilliance and darkness. Though the emotions he could sense most strongly were coming from the pavilion off to the side was fear, aggression, and denial. It was faint, but he could also feel Tonks' familiar presence off in that direction, away from the heart of the conflict, much to his silent relief.

But there was also something else stirring in the air around them. It was powerful. It was omniscient. It felt too unfathomably large to be any single person. It felt… It felt…like the world itself was now gazing down upon him, upon Voldemort, and what would happen. Waiting and watching with an utmost interest that was beyond anything a mere mortal mind could comprehend. Glancing subtly behind him, he could see Ron was also feeling the same thing. His facial expression as open and confused as Harry felt.

Quickly returning his attention back to his hated enemy, Harry nodded and stepped forward. "That we do, Tom. And this will be the _last time_."

Voldemort's sneer widened in triumph at the boy's declaration. Sweeping his arms out to the sides in a grand gesture, the Dark Lord exerted his power and flung all of the gathered Specters away as though they were tumbleweeds blowing in the wind. As Harry was about to move forward and confront Voldemort, a hand grasped his shoulder. Glancing back at Ron, he just waited with a raised brow questioningly. In as serious a voice as Ron could muster, the redhead said, "We have a lot to talk about and even more to do when you get back. So don't waste any time."

Nodding, Harry turned and rushed towards Voldemort, sweeping his lightsaber forward and deflecting a Killing Curse sent at him. Behind him, Ron leapt over to Hermione and took up a position to defend her against any Specters that might again target her as they were recovering.

Deflecting six Killing Curses in less than three seconds, Harry continued his rush for Voldemort, bouncing from side to side and dodging even more dark spells sent at him in the process. He could feel Voldemort's growing frustration, but he could also sense the deep confidence and dark cunning that was going on inside that twisted mind. He needed to close the distance and cut him down as quickly as possible, to not give him any time to concoct a plan of some sort.

Crying out in exertion, Voldemort cast out an enormous fireball. Rather than try jumping over it and risk exposing himself to such a dangerous opponent, Harry thrust his free hand forward and molded the magic around him. Just as the fireball was about to reach him, it was suddenly split down the middle and cast flying apart in two halves before dissipating behind him. Not even ten paces ahead of him, Harry got a wonderful sight of Voldemort's surprised and even disbelieving face for all of a second before he regained his calm and cool.

In a burst of speed, Harry closed the remaining gap between them and swung his lightsaber in a dissecting slash through the creature's torso, aiming for his black heart. Strangely, he felt no resistance as his blade passed through the man's body. Skidding to a stop behind the man, Harry spun around to watch the body. Only to blink in surprise and give a start of disbelief at watching the man's image waver and evaporate like smoke in the wind.

"An illusion?" Harry couldn't help muttering in disgruntled surprise. He hadn't had any training in sensing or countering illusions, not even when he was in Hogwarts. With his crystal ball, he had admittedly focused much more of his time on learning how to handle the more mundane attacks used by most Wizards and Witches, even certain elemental attacks like fire and ice. But illusions? He'd never fought against someone who was skilled in them, or even had a passing knowledge in them, certainly not since he'd become a Sorcerer. How could Voldemort fool his sensory powers like that with a mere illusion?!

"You're not the only one with practice in the more esoteric branches of magic, Potter," Voldemort said, his voice echoing around the boy from seemingly everywhere. "I know all about you being a Sorcerer. I know that to face you head on is foolhardy, especially with that detestable _weapon_ of yours."

"So you're going to hide behind illusions and try to curse me in the back, is that right, Tom?" Harry asked loudly, hoping to tempt the Dark Lord into exposing himself however briefly.

"Oh no," the man purred silkily. "I have no intention of facing you at all. There is no known manner in how to fight against a Sorcerer with mundane magics. But while Sorcerers may be the height of magical power and potential, they have one gaping weakness. Do you know what it is?" The mocking tone of his voice was all Harry needed to hear to know that Voldemort already knew that he didn't in fact know of such a weakness. "Allow me to demonstrate what this weakness entails!"

That was when Harry sensed a change in the magic around him. Voldemort began chanting in a language that Harry had never heard before and was utterly unable to understand. As the Dark Lord's voice began to rise in volume, the magic in the air around them began to twist, rip, bucking and thrashing about as though in pain. Harry wasn't sure what was going on, but he could sense that Voldemort was wrenching the world apart somehow.

"What are you doing?!" Harry yelled out almost fearfully. "Do you even realize what you're doing?! The magic, the world! It's in pain! STOP IT!"

Rather than listen to the pleas of his hated nemesis, Voldemort continued his chant, his voice now echoing with power and intent across the whole battlefield. It became so overpowering that even the battling Aurors and Death Eaters stopped their fights to watch what was happening. Sensing where the heart of the convulsing and twisting magic was coming from, Harry turned and watched with wide eyes as what he sensed quickly became visible to the naked eye. It started as a green spark bursting to life. Then it split, grew, widened, and convulsed, becoming many interlocking strands of pure magic that slowly began spinning. In less than a second, the convulsions ceased as the spinning mass of green magic began taking a bit more of a solid form. From that spinning mass, Harry could sense something…opening. Something from…beyond was there, watching, waiting. Reaching out with his hands, Harry tried to focus his magic at untangling the convulsing mass, closing what was forming, undoing Voldemort's spell. But his comparatively woefully low amount of power and his lack of understanding and knowledge at what was happening were no match to Voldemort's sheer force of will and intent.

With a sudden pulse, the green mass sent out a blast of magic that knocked many people, including Harry, off their feet out of surprise. But with that same pulse, the magic finally stabilized and formed what was obviously a portal of some kind. The portal was easily large enough to fit fifty men within from one side to the next and still have room for more. Echoing out from within that portal, a loud and unfamiliar shrieking roar could be heard.

"_What have you __**done**__?!_" Harry demanded, his voice being the only one that dared speak the question that _all_ of them were wondering.

Voldemort gave no answer, or at least not one that could be heard as another and much closer shrieking roar could be heard. From inside the portal, a monstrously large shape could be seen moving closer. It was so large that even with the portal's size, it was still struggling to get through the cycling funnel that enveloped it. As it drew closer, Harry could make out certain features about it that caused him to start shivering and his skin to go pale in fear. Features like a monstrous pair of wings behind a set of equally large shoulders, a large beaked face with a crown of spikes swept back from its face, heavy armor plating over its chest and torso, and glowing red eyes that looked every bit as dangerous and evil as the blast of demonfire that erupted from its throat as its head finally cleared the portal. The demonic flames burst out and swept from one side to the side, creating a vast and scorching inferno that encircled around Harry and all of the surrounding Wizards, Witches, and Specters.

"A Sorcerer is the greatest magic user of this realm," Voldemort declared as he finally became visible just underneath the portal he'd created, a large glowing emerald the size of his fist being held up over his head. Wafting up from this glowing gem were tendrils of the same green magic that had created and opened the portal. Sneering in triumph, he continued, "But they have no defense against the magics of another realm, like the Demon World!"

Above him, the Demon pulled itself out of the portal at long last. Landing heavily enough upon the earth to send earthquake-like shakes through it, jostling even the foundation of Hogwarts, the Demon threw back its head as its wings swept open, letting out a deafening cry of triumph. The final battle had just reached an entirely new level of difficult.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Heh, you know, 'Grand Magic Finale' really is a fitting name for this chapter title, maybe even for the battle itself. Bigtime thanks and credit go to **Aminta Defender** for this chapter! In case you guys haven't guessed it, this chapter (and probably the next one or two) are a joint collaboration between **Aminta Defender** and myself. What you've seen here will more than likely show up in his own story (_Mayhem at Hogwarts_) when he reaches this point in the timeline.

Also, _this_ is the reason why that one of the things that pissed so many of you guys off back in Chapter 9 happened. With the world that I've created, the only way we'd ever get a chance to have any badass lightsaber duels to happen was if Harry willingly gave his enemy a spare lightsaber of his own. That's something that he (and no one else) would ever do. I needed a way to get the lightsaber designs out of his hands and become more widespread, that way the likelihood of a duel occurring would increase greatly. Trust me, I've wanted to write a lightsaber duel since before I'd even started this story! And I know that many of you have also wanted at one in this story as well. In case any of you are wondering how Fudge and the Specter's got these designs, let's just say that he received an 'anonymous donation' from Hogwarts at the same time that Voldemort was proclaiming that lightsabers were abominations.

For those interested, I was largely inspired for the end of this chapter by a game I've started playing recently: _Dragon Age Inquisition_. For those you who want a more visual image of what the Demon looks like, I am largely basing it on the Bahamut SIN of _Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children_. Iam basing the Specters design on the Jedi Temple Guards of _Star Wars_. And if no one can see the_ Deadpool _references, I'm going to be _very_ surprised and disappointed!


	25. Grand Magic Finale, pt 2

**The Lightsaber**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#25: Grand Magic Finale, Part 2_

**Ministry Pavilion, Hogwarts Grounds  
****April 9, 1996**

Tonks could honestly say that she'd never before seen such an incredible display of magic as what she was presently witnessing. Indeed, the magic was so potent in the air that it was almost a physical presence. Such a display of raw power was something that was only spoken of occurring during titanic clashes of ancient Wizards and Witches many long centuries in the distant past. She knew without a fraction of a doubt that what she was seeing now was something that was on par with the greatest of legends. She knew that she was witnessing history unfolding right before her very eyes. This battle whose importance would probably someday rival that of Morgan le Fay and Merlin's final climatic duel over the fate of England a millennium earlier. And she was here to see it happen firsthand.

She wasn't sure how she had come to this conclusion, especially since she knew that no normal Witch or Wizard could possibly fight toe to toe with Harry anymore. And yet, that was exactly what had happened. Granted, those fifty masked, cream robed 'Specters' outnumbered him greatly and were fighting against him using weapons that they shouldn't have had access to. But the fact was that they were keeping up with him. This disturbed and scared Tonks in multiple ways. But it was the implication of _how_ they could do that was really getting to her. Along with the lightsabers as evidence, was it possible that Fudge had created a small task force of Sorcerers who answered to his every whim? It seemed like a ludicrous thought, but then…what if…?

But then things had gotten really out of hand when an army of Death Eaters, led by the Dark Lord himself, had arrived and attacked the exhausted and greatly depleted Aurors. While this had been happening, Tonks could hear a great deal of talking and yelling, fear and rage, erupting from the pavilion behind her. Fudge's reaction to Voldemort's appearance was one that she was sorely disappointed in missing. As was the obvious and inevitable revelations he must've been going through as he realized that so much of what he had personally done and set into motion to secure his grip on power would now soon come racing back to bitch-slap him in the face. The tide of the battle had been very much in flux since Voldemort was obviously more interested in reaching the young Potter than dealing damage to the Aurors, their one saving grace in that melee. As such, the fight was continuously wavering from one side to the next. At least until Dumbledore had made his gallant appearance on the battlefield, knocking the Death Eater lines into chaos and rejuvenating the Aurors' fighting spirits that had taken such bad beatings during the course of the war.

If it hadn't already been confusing, the sudden wall of Hogwarts students lining up to defend the perimeter of the school grounds just added to it. Led by Hermione Granger and a few others, the students had put up shields and created walls and barriers in an obvious attempt to keep the many combatants out and away from the castle. And as if that wasn't enough, Harry's friends had then run out and joined him on the battlefield, facing off and even defeating multiple Specters with little apparent difficulty, especially the Weasley boy thanks to his own lightsaber and being fresh to the fight.

During all of that, Tonks had simply stood at the foot of the pavilion, on apparent guard detail to protect the various Department Heads and the Minister therein. Her first instincts had been screaming at her to rush into the battle and help her young Sorcerer friend, but her duty and self-preservation had won out on that fight. Then, as the fight became more and more chaotic, she had simply found herself sitting back and watching with increasing levels of awe. To her, it was like she was watching a wartime documentary playing out in real-time, horrifying and humbling at the same time.

But for as distracted as she was by what was happening, the sight of four black-cloaked and silver-masked Death Eaters making their way out of the melee and towards the pavilion was easily enough shake her out of her stupefied state. Placing herself as the first and likely only line of defense for the various Ministry officials above and behind her, she yanked out her wand and adopted an aggressive casting stance. The four oncoming Death Eaters saw her easily but they didn't seem concerned as they continued their fast approach.

As they were nearing the outer range of casting, Tonks cast a silent telekinesis spell, levitating a large rock she ripped out of the ground and hurled it at the four figures. The rock was predictably blown to dust by one of the Death Eaters, but it had served its purpose by giving Tonks a split second to start moving, bouncing from side to side as she started lobbing other spells towards them. The Death Eaters continued running towards her, having a hard time pinpointing her. She skipped away from an Avada Kedavra, spun around an Entrails-Expelling Curse, and ducked under a dark Cutting Curse, all in the matter of a few seconds. As she was rising out of her crouch, Tonks's whipped her wand up and cast a dense sand and dust cloud to go billowing up towards her encircling attackers, attacking their eyes and further trying to hide her movements.

Sadly, one of the Death Eaters was of a slightly-higher caliber of skill than most of the rabble that made up their ranks. This cloaked man waved his wand, using a strong wind to rapidly dispel the dust cloud back towards her. As Tonks was forced to cancel her own spell, two of the other Death Eaters spotted her through the mess. One sent another Killing Curse, forcing her to dodge…right into the Expelliarmus that his companion had launched a split second later. The spell had such a potent power packed into it that Tonks was actually bodily lifted off the ground and send careening backwards as her wand was yanked from her grasp. She landed heavily upon the ground on her back, the impact knocking the wind from her lungs and jarring her shoulders badly.

Even with all her training to ignore pain and her Metamorphmagus abilities helping to ease the pain and recover more rapidly than a normal person, Tonks moved at the leisurely pace of molasses as she rolled onto her stomach, fighting to get her breath back. Groaning as she pushed herself off the ground, she heard the crunch of grass as the four attackers moved up towards her, wands arrogantly not aimed at her as they believed her disarmed and now powerless against them.

Discreetly sliding her hand on the other side of her body into her pants pocket, she felt for what she knew was still there. Grasping it, she looked up at the Death Eaters with a face of angry defeat and resigned acceptance.

"Well, well, well," one of the Death Eaters said, his voice somewhat familiar to her though not immediately recognizable. "If it isn't the half-blood, shapeshifting _bastard_ of House Black! Not so tough now, out here in the real world and against the true power of the _mighty_ Death Eaters, are you, _Tonks_?"

"I think I did a hellva better job than you," she retorted, glaring at the speaker as her grip on her hidden weapon tightened. "You could only ever take me down by ganging up on little old me. What's that say about you four, oh high and mighty Death Eaters?"

Seeing their postures stiffen in anger was all the opening Tonks needed. It was only a split second distraction as they stewed on her insult, but it was more than enough. Yanking out her lightsaber, she rose from her kneel as she ignited her saber, sweeping it upwards in an arc across all four of them. In the next split second, their positions had been dramatically reversed with Tonks now standing proudly over the four bodies that were each now dissected into numerous dismembered pieces.

Looking down at them, she spat upon their corpses in disgust. "Death Eater scum."

"That lightsaber!" a loud voice several paces behind her suddenly said. Turning around, Tonks found herself staring at the Head Unspeakable, who must've come down to aid her in the defense of the Ministers. Though she couldn't see his face, she could tell by his rigid body posture and the glowing wandtip he was pointing at her that he was surprised and angry. "Where did you get it?!"

"Who cares?!" she demanded, twirling her weapon lightly in one hand as she moved off to the side to collect her dropped wand.

The Unspeakable paused only for a moment to consider her statement. "By decree of the Minister of Magic, Article 1996-788A, Paragraph 3-D, the construction and use of the weapon called a 'lightsaber' is prohibited from public use unless specially authorized by the Minister of Magic himself. Only exemptions of pertaining to the law being a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Special Subdivision codenamed 'Specters'."

Tonks frowned deeply at the Unspeakable's words. Though she had no idea what he was talking or if the 'law' that he was quoting even existed, she could still divine the meaning behind this quite quickly. As realization dawned upon her, she couldn't help hefting up her still ignited lightsaber into a semi-defensible stance.

Seeing her shifting body posture, the Unspeakable finished by saying, "Minister Fudge has only approved of the creation and use of 55 such weapons, most of which belong to the Specters. Alas, you are not a member of the Specters and have not, to the best of my knowledge, been approved to carry or construct one yourself. So, I ask again: where did you get it?!"

"I made it!" Tonks snapped angrily.

"The only other individual with the knowledge to construct such a weapon is the original creator," the Unspeakable said, softly yet somehow sounding incredibly judgmental. Pointing his wand at Tonks in an accusing manner, he snapped, "This means that you're in league with that little Sorcerer out there!"

"Says the man who likely created the means of giving Fudge his very own Sorcerer army!" Tonks yelled back, glaring full on at the man.

"TRAITOR!" the Unspeakable roared, launching a spell Tonks in the process.

Raising her lightsaber, Tonks swept the blade around and deflected the spell easily, her frown and glare deepening at the new label she'd just been given. But rather than retort against a man who was clearly deeply in Fudge's pockets, she rushed forward to fight the man. The Unspeakable began casting spells at an impressive rate, enough so that any normal opponent would've been quickly overwhelmed. But Tonks had the advantage of having a lightsaber in one hand, a wand in the other, a far fitter and better trained body, and the necessary combat experience. Against all that, the Unspeakable, who was little more than a glorified magical scientist and accountant, despite his remarkable repertoire of spells available, was simply no match.

As she neared him at an alarmingly fast pace, the Unspeakable seemed to realize the mismatch he'd gotten himself into and started turning to flee. But before he could get very far, Tonks had reached the man. She swept her lightsaber vertically down his side, amputating his outstretched arm as he pointed it back to cast one final spell at her. The man tripped and went down with a cry of agony. As he fumbled about on the ground for his dismembered arm and specifically his wand, Tonks knocked him out with a Stupefy spell.

"Traitor!" a distant voice yelled from the side. Turning to face the shouter, her gaze located the person as being Minister Fudge himself, standing in the farthest corner of the pavilion from the fighting taking place just ahead of him. Yet, this same position was also what had allowed him the perfect view to have seen the clash between his secret right hand man and one of his Aurors wielding a weapon she was not approved of or should even know how to use safely.

'_There is a three-way battle for the future of Magical Britain taking place right in front of him, one side led by the Dark Lord he has so vehemently declared no longer lives, one side led by the legendary Albus Dumbledore, one side just a bunch of Hogwarts students trying defend their school, while one little but talented boy is caught in the midst of all that chaos alone, and all he focuses on is the fact that a no-name Auror is using a weapon he thinks is his to control?_' Tonks couldn't help thinking as she glared up at the Minister. How anyone could've seen this man as suitable Minister of Magic material, much less _voted_ for him, was beyond her.

Before any more random thoughts went through her mind or attacks could be leveled against her, a bright green glow lit up the sky over the battlefield. Tonks turned to face the unnatural light just in time to see the pulse that ripped through the area, scattering the hundreds of battling Wizards like leaves in the wind. She could only watch in half-understood horror as a portal opened and from it emerged of a towering demon. Once the Demon had emerged, the green portal seemed to collapse and implode on itself, once again sealing off Earth Realm from the Demon Realm.

Like the rest of the combatants on the field, she could only stare up at the monstrosity that had been summoned forth. Demonic summoning was, without a doubt, one of the most terrible magics to have ever been created, used by only the truly strongest and foulest of Dark Wizards. Thankfully, the usage of Demons had fallen out favor since the imposition of the Statute of Secrecy. Although the most recent of Demonic Summoning had been in the early days of World War II, when the battle for Magical Europe against Grindelwald had begun.

Whether under Voldemort's command or simply by its own whim, the Demon raised one of its massive arms and swept it down towards the nearest group of Wizards. Sadly for those Wizards, under the protective spells of Hogwarts, they were unable to Apparate to safety. She couldn't tell from this distance how many died, but she could see a great many of them getting knocked flying high and far into the air with multiple trails of blood, disembodied organs and limbs flying in several directions. At this act of aggression, all of the gathered magicals, whether Auror, Death Eater, or Specter, immediately turned and tried to flee. Most ran towards Hogwarts and the perceived safety it offered, other raced for the Forbidden Forest and the comparatively safer dangers it held, and others still just ran whichever stuck their fancy as long as it took them as far away from the Demon as possible. Unfortunately for all parties, they didn't get too far quickly enough.

The Demon reared back with its mouth opening, a bright glow of flames at the back of its throat the only warning before it lunged downwards again. A massive column of flame erupted from its mouth and blasted down into the heart of the former enemies, killing dozens immediately in the scorching conflagration. Despite her horror, Tonks saw that demonfire was quite a bit different from most other flames she'd ever seen before. It seemed to only burn flesh, killing people mercilessly but leaving the grass directly beneath them completely unharmed, if only a bit hot to the touch.

Finishing its blast, the Demon pulled back to survey its handiwork. That was when a literal bolt of lightning suddenly shot upwards from in front of it and struck its throat. The lightning bolt must've been incredibly powerful because it knocked the Demon reeling in pain, grasping at its throat even as its eyes shot down to find the source of the attack. Tonks found the source of the attack at the same instant the Demon did. It was Harry! But while she gave a slight cheer of encouragement, the Demon let out a challenging roar that bellowed across the landscape like thunder. In response, Harry crouched slightly before thrusting his arm upwards and sent another bolt of lightning up at the Demon's face. Prepared this time, the Demon snapped one arm up with an incredible burst of speed that seemed out of place in something so huge and blocked the attack. As it's arm started convulsing violently from the electrical attack, it swung its other arm downwards towards Harry before he had a chance to recuperate. It struck the ground around boy, digging up the dirt and leaving deep gouges behind as it arced upwards again. The swing sent the unprepared Sorcerer flying up over and past Hogwarts, towards the Black Lake and Hogsmeade beyond.

"Harry!" Tonks yelled, fear and horror pain in her voice as she watched his small figure vanish behind the castle.

The Demon threw back at its head and let loose what could only have been a roar of triumph, clearly relishing it victory over the first opponent it'd met that could actually somewhat bother it. But, as its victory cry was fading into the distance, Tonks turned her gazed upon the monster as something dark and angry rose to the surface inside her. In her mounting rage, she never noticed that her eyes and hair had gained a distinctive red that was so bright it was practically glowing. Without any thought, she immediately raced forward to join the battle.

* * *

**Hogwarts Grounds**

When asked later, Dudley could never state with any amount of certainty what had driven him to the decision he made. It was a side-effect of the two potions he'd drank. While they bestowed upon him enormous strength and incredible reflexes for a short time, they also tampered with his mind and personality in a manner that wasn't too unlike alcohol. Where a carefree and happy man might become moody and introverted, he gained a certain level of disregard for his own safety and a heightened degree of arrogance. A mindset that was somewhat accurately based on the perceived notion that with the immense power he had gained, he was as close to invincible and immortal as a person could get. This made him cocky and more jovial than he had ever been before, most especially since the Dementor attack last summer.

Perhaps it was because of this that he made the choice he did? Or perhaps it was because he could see the writing on the wall even more clearly than the Wizards could? Or maybe it was because he could see a large number of relatively innocent people, namely school students who were most assuredly not involved, were most likely going to become victims of several men's insanity and it went against his moral code to allow that to happen? Whatever the case may be, Dudley had made his choice before he even had suitable time to contemplate it and what its ramifications could be.

That was why he, unlike the dozens of remaining Wizards, was rushing forward to take the battle to the Demon, rather than running for his life and letting it rampage as it desired.

Stopping at a relatively close distance, Dudley raised his rifle and opened full-auto fire on the Demon, letting out a loud war cry in the process. Unlike the few spells that a couple of the braver Wizards had initially tried to cast against it, the magical-plasma bullets peppered the boney flesh of the Demon like a concentrated swarm of wasps. The Demon let out a pained shriek of surprise, recoiling away from the unrelenting barrage. "_You like that?! HUH?! YOU LIKE THAT, YA UGLY OVERGROWN TURKEY?! HUH?!_"

That was when a deafening multitude of cracks and pops filled the air around and behind him. Suddenly filling the space around him was what must've been thousands upon thousands of brown cloaked Wizards. Even the Demon was momentarily surprised by the abrupt appearance of some many new enemies, stepping back a couple titanic steps as it gazed down on them.

At first Dudley would've just ignored them and continued attacking the Demon, but the one on his left reached out and grabbed his shoulder in a strong grip. Whirling around, Dudley quickly threw off the arm and hefted up his rifle towards the man's chin, "Hey, hey! No touchy-feely!"

"Wha's go'ng on 'ere?!" the man demanded in broken, barely legible English, not intimidated by the strange weapon that was in his face. "ICW pic' up big amo'nts magick 'ere!"

The Demon let out a loud roar then, finally regaining its equilibrium. Its roar quickly got the attentions of the floundering crowd of new arrivals, who seemed more interested in interrogating the nearest local Wizards they could get ahold of then trying to notice and deal with the obvious problem. Seeing the telltale buildup of fire at the back of its open mouth, Dudley turned and leapt as far away as his enhanced leg muscles could take him, leaving a startled wizard staring up perplexedly at the monster.

Fortunately, some of the new arrivals clearly knew how dangerous the fires could be and quickly teleported away, though not all of them. As the Demon breathed out its fires into the center of the new enemies, other Wizards tried futilely throwing up shields and barriers. But that hasty defenses were quickly overpowered and destroyed. After a few moments, the Demon ceased its attack and stared down into the decimated remains of the newest army to stand before it. It howled in victory once again. At least until those annoying stings started pelted its face again.

As the Demon focused down on him, Dudley rapidly grabbed one of his grenades, pulled the pin, and hurled it at the Demon. With his enhanced strength, the grenade actually struck and bounced off the Demon's beak before it exploded in a burst of electrical energies. The Demon recoiled again while shrieking, clutching at its face with one hand. Dudley let out a laugh as he resumed his firing, aiming for its knee joints to disable its mobility.

Shaking off the electrical effects, the Demon roared as it started lunging down towards Dudley. Dudley continued firing upon it fearlessly, until the ammo clip ran dry and the shots ceased. But before the Demon had a chance to take advantage of that, a large dark blur shot past Dudley's side. The blur raced up to and gave a mighty leap up into the Demon's face, revealing itself to be a transformed Lycan. The lone wolf was biting, clawing, and scraping savagely at the Demon's face, trying to penetrate its thick armor and gouge out its eyes.

"Who the fuck is that?!" Dudley asked loudly, already in the process of switching ammo clips.

"That is Alpha Hendrick," a familiar voice replied as a bolt bowcaster blast shot forward from behind Dudley and struck the Demon in its heel, doing more damage than any one of Dudley's numerous shots. Glancing up and behind him, Dudley recognized Magorian the Centaur easily.

"What are you two still doing here?!" Dudley demanded hotly as he and the Centaur were forced to dodge a tail strike from the now furious Demon as it started flailing about. Ignoring yet another near-death experience he'd almost had, Dudley pulled and threw another grenade, hitting the Demon in the throat this time. Up on its face, Hendrick had scrambled up off its face to avoid its grasping hands and started tormenting it in the soft flesh behind its boney crowns. "You're supposed to be going to you-know-where!"

"No, I never agreed to go anywhere!" Magorian answered, much more calmly than Dudley might've thought he'd be. "I agreed that my _people_ needed to escape to survive, but I never said _I_ would follow. Besides, this abomination _must_ be exterminated with all due haste!"

"Fine then!" Dudley barked back, taking a jump far to the side to dodge one of the Demon's stomping feet.

As he was raising his rifle again, he spotted a strange high-speed scything blade of ice shooting through the air. It sliced along the Demon's exposed torso, just under its ribcage, gouging out a rather surprising gash that began spilling flaming-orange blood. The ice projectile quickly melted after it was exposed to the blood, but the damage was done. Turning to where he'd glimpsed the ice coming from, it took Dudley a moment to recognize the angry young woman. Mostly because her hair was a furious red color, which was a stark contrast to its usual jovial neon-pink that she preferred. Nearing Dudley's position, she noticed his glance and called out, "This is a Demon of Fire. So, ice and electrical attacks will work best!"

"Not water?" he called back, firing once again.

"Are you kidding?!" Tonks demanded, even as she was busy conjuring many more ice blades to attack with.

* * *

**Black Lake**

Resurfacing from the cold water he'd landed in, Harry quickly drew his wand and transfigured a considerable volume of the water nearby into a large wooden raft, nearly six meters in diameter. Pulling himself atop the raft, he fought against the shivers as the cold winds instantly attacked his drenched form. With fumbling fingers, he quickly cast a few drying and heating spells upon himself and soon felt his body temperature begin rising again. Satisfied, he holstered his wand and returned his attention to the castle he'd been thrown over. In the distance, he could sense a large portion of the Wizards fleeing in all directions, most notably into Hogwarts. But he could also sense that there was a small handful of familiar presences who were fighting against the Demon.

"Tonks, Dudley, Hendrick, Magorian," Harry muttered, very concerned. "What are you doing?! You're going to get yourselves killed!"

"You should worry about yourself first, Harry Potter," a dark voice said from above Harry.

"That's the difference between us, Tom," Harry countered, not even flinching as he looked up at Voldemort's smoky floating form. "I care about those around me first and foremost. You care only about yourself."

"Save me the speech, boy!" Voldemort snapped with annoyance raging through his aura, if not his face. "I've heard the lecture about the _virtues_ of kindness, compassion, and love _many_ times before."

"You have obviously not learned from those lectures then if people are still giving them to you," Harry said replied, watching as the self-styled Dark Lord floated down and landed upon the opposite end of the iceberg. Then his glare deepened as he said, "You have _no idea_ of what you've brought down on this world, do you? Summoning a _Demon?!_ _What_ were you _thinking?! __**Were**_ you thinking?!"

"As I had said earlier, boy," Voldemort said, his eyes narrowing into tiny slits as he glared hatefully at the boy who spoke to him as though he were a first-year novice. "Demons can bypass all of a Sorcerer's special magical defenses."

"Yes," Harry agreed, nodding. "But I also remember you saying that you'd rather not fight me now because you're too much of a coward."

"You misunderstand why I summoned that Demon," Voldemort said, smiling grotesquely at his young enemy. "This way, the Ministry's Aurors will be devastated even further and if, by some miracle, you manage to defeat me once again, you will most likely die while trying to take it down. And, even _if_ you strike me down again, I _will_ return again one day. I have done more and come closer to true immortality than anyone else prior. No matter what happens from here on, _I win_."

"We both know I won't let it get that far," Harry said, igniting his lightsaber in preparation while pulling out his wand again in the other hand.

"It doesn't matter," Voldemort said, sneering knowingly. "You no longer have a place in the Wizarding World anymore. Whether by my hand or the Ministry, your life is over!"

And just like that, the battle between the two prophesized idols began. Iron chains head towards Voldemort, but the Dark Lord twists his wrist turning the chains into large snakes that are sent back at Harry. Harry twirls around, his lightsaber slashing the snakes to pieces. He concentrates deeply on his magic as he reaches out one hand to the side, the lake begins to churn and seemingly boil. Suddenly a giant stone hand rises out of the depths and high into the air. It gets above Voldemort and slams down with incredible force, shattering the raft they were standing upon.

However, with just another few fancy waves of his wand, Harry froze the water around the portion of the broken raft, extending the size to new platform to a more comfortable one for a fight. Once done, Harry looks around, trying to find Voldemort. Water rises out of the lake and heads at the Sorcerer's unprotected back. The water turns into a sharp blade of ice intent on impaling Harry. But Harry had sensed the harmful intent and he spins around, thrusting his wand forward. A powerful Protego forms a dome around him and he watches as the ice blade shatters into thousands of shards.

"There is no good or evil, only power," Voldemort said, his voice echoing from seemingly everywhere. "You have power, Potter. Why don't you join me instead and we can rule this world!"

"I don't want to rule the world. I want to protect it," replies Harry.

Laughter fills the air. It briefly overrules even the clamor and explosions of the titanic battle taking place a short distance away. "Protect this world? Even if you defeat me, do you think the world will accept you? Look at the power you wield! The world will never accept you!" Harry spins around using his lightsaber to deflect several spells back into the air. Voldemort is forced out of the air and back onto the iceberg to avoid being struck by his own spells. "Avada Kedavra!" The spell is reflected back at Voldemort much to the dark lord's annoyance. Sidestepping the Killing Curse, he spat out, "Wizard. Sorcerer. Savior. Traitor. Hero. Villain. You are _all things_, Harry Potter, and yet you are _nothing_. You belong neither to the _Wizarding_ World, nor the _Muggles_. You will _forever_ – _stand – alone_."

"It doesn't matter if the world turns their back on me. I know who I am, I don't need anyone else's recognition!" Harry sprints forward at incredible speeds.

The blue beam passes through empty space as Voldemort vanishes. He looks up into the air to see Voldemort wave his wand rapidly. Dozens upon dozens of spells begin to rain down upon Harry. Channeling his magic into his body and relying on his awareness, he begins to parry and deflect the spells away. A warning of danger coming from behind makes Harry twirl around in time to decapitate Nagini. In the process, three spells strike Harry. Two spells slice open his back and left arm, forcing him to drop his lightsaber out of sheer reflex, and the third spell hits him in the chest before exploding. Blood, clothing, and metal are blown from him as he hits the ice and goes sliding nearly off the edge. At the last second, he was able to reorient and stop himself.

Voldemort landed in the center of the iceberg with a slight sneer of contempt and excitement. If he were honest with himself, Voldemort would admit to be very impressed with how well Harry has been fighting. Certainly, no other mere teenager could've hoped to have even stood against him for even half the time that Harry has been fighting. And not to mention that he was already very exhausted from the extended battle he'd been fighting earlier. His stamina was most definitely _very_ impressive. If he had fought against the boy when he was fresh… But just the same, it was obvious that he was now and truly upon his last vestiges of energy.

Now it was time to break the boy's spirit before he finally killed him. "So, that is the extent of your powers."

Harry coughed up blood as he rolled over. Looking down, he sees that his chest armor had been blown away, perhaps the only thing that protected his life from the power of those spells. With some regret, he reaches down and pulls away the last few pieces that were still fastened in place before standing up. Only his Centaur-iron pauldron was still in place over his shoulder, having easily resisted the magical attacks. Blood quickly began to soak through his thin shirt. "Sacrificing your own familiar to get a blow in." A taunting smile appears on the boy's face. "You really are a coward."

"Ahh, but it's not about who the coward is, boy," Voldemort said, sneering widely. "Good and bad, cowardice and courage, righteousness and deceit? On the battlefield, all that truly matters is the last one standing." Raising his wand above his head, the tip began glowing a blinding green as the power buildup began rising at astronomical levels. "_This will be the __**end **__**of this!**_"

* * *

**Hogwarts Castle**

By this point the Demon was raging mad. It realized that it was at the disadvantage on the open field, arrayed against this small number of highly-dangerous opponents. It was time to change the rule of engagement and shift the battle to a field it's choosing! So, it turned and made series of jumping lunges towards the nearby castle. As it approached the boundary, a protective dome of transparent magic sprung to life around the castle. Unlike the more passive barriers that covered the school grounds, these barriers were meant to fend off entire armies.

However, even though they were meant to do that, they had always been poorly maintained in the past, and outright neglected in recent decades. Coupled with the fact that the Demon was far stronger than any single army, the barriers were shattered like glass when the Demon slammed into them. Perhaps the one saving grace for those barriers was the fact that their destruction had caused the Demon to stumble and collapse to the ground, just barely missing crushing the West Wing and the Entrance Hall. But that same impact also sent Hendrick flying from his perch, smashing into one of the windows of the third floor.

It ignored the small bodies of fleeing students and Wizards as it pulled itself back to its feet and climbed atop the castle, perching itself over the interior courtyard. If it could've, the Demon would've smirked down at its surprisingly fearsome opponents. They may be strong, wielding magic it has never known of before, and using the aid of creatures it knows they hated as much as itself, but they surely couldn't reach it from way down there! They were still mere mortals after all.

Then, to its surprise, the smallest of its opponents sudden crouched deeply as he neared the castle. The ground surrounding him seemed to sink and crater as he launched himself upwards in a titanic jump that no mere human should've been capable of! The boy actually leapt so high up that he drew level with the Demon's face, pointing that strange weapon he carried practically pointblank into its face before launching another series of those irritating stings into its face. Roaring in aggravation as it recoiled, the Demon tried to swap the damn pest aside, focusing upon the boy to the exclusion of all else. This proved to be a mistake as it suddenly felt a terrible burning stab of pain in its side. As it was reaching for its new wound, the Centaur withdrew a pike with a brilliantly shining blade of blue light from its side as it retreated from the Demon's reach.

As this was happening, those pesky ice blades began slicing along the Demon's back. Roaring again, it swung its tail about, hitting the castle and sending chunks of mortar, stone, tiles, and glass flying. The debris caught the red-haired woman and returning Werewolf by surprise, forcing them to duck behind shelter and give the Demon a moment of reprieve. Focusing on the two in front of it, the Demon swung its arm at the large tower nearby, shattering portions of it and sending yet more debris into the air. Some of the debris caught the Centaur bodily in the side and caused it to lose its haphazard footing on the tiled roof. That pesky boy, on other hand, managed to dodge and landed within the now exposed hole of the tower and hurled yet another of those painful little pebbles at its face.

Furious beyond all reason, the Demon reared back, flames gathering within its throat. As it was doing this, it lashed out again against the tower, striking it powerfully just above where the boy was standing. This caused a chain reaction that sent a large chunk of the damaged tower collapsing downwards, fittingly right towards the boy. The boy could do nothing but stare up in mounting fear, yelling as he watched his death rapidly approach. But the Demon had turned away by then and expelled its mighty breath attack down towards where the other combatants were cowering.

As such, it failed to see a sudden dark robed blur shoot up to, grab, and drag the screaming Dursley boy to safety as the tower collapsed, smashing down into the lower portions of the castle below. Landing haphazardly upon an exposed ceiling rafter, Dudley took a moment to balance and recollect himself, feeling the effects of the two potions he'd taken now starting to wear off. Looking over to where his savior had landed not too far away on a similarly exposed rafter, Dudley could just make out a bit of red hair sticking out from under the hood of the cloak. It must be that Ron guy again.

"_Where the hell'va you been?!_" he yelled angrily. He knew that Ron was another Sorcerer. He could've been a _**big**_ help earlier, before the damn Demon decided to use the castle as a jungle-gym!

But Ron didn't deign to reply to the angry Dursley. He had been busy and preoccupied down below. But he was here now and it was time to end this fight before anyone else got hurt! Gathering his magic to bolster his body, Ron ignited his lightsaber and leapt forward to meet the Demon head on. The Demon must've sensed his approach as it turned to face him. Seeing another of those glowing blades in his hand, it wisely reeled back, causing Ron to miss his initial swing. Then it lunged forward, slamming into his body with its powerful beak. The blow sent Ron flying backwards, but he didn't crash into the castle. Instead, he managed to nearly-instantly reorient himself, flip over, land upon the castle, and launch himself forward once again.

As he did, his free arm swung forward and a large chunk of debris flew forward to strike the Demon in its wounded side. Despite its best attempts, the pain still caused the Demon to shriek and cradle its injury. This allowed Ron to slam into its face, his saber slashing decisively across its eyes, blinding it. The Demon threw its head back, roaring in pain and fury. But Ron also used this same action to jump lightly into the air, once again gathering his magic to enhance his muscles tremendously. Descending back towards the Demon, he swung his empowered fist down, striking the Demon upon its enlarged forehead and bone-crowns. The force of the blow was so immense and unexpected that the Demon was knocked from its perch and sent careening down into the castle courtyard below. Landing upon the nearby edge, Ron looked down at the blinded Demon as he hefted up his lightsaber, wondering what its next move would be.

The answer came in the form of a gathering flames within its mouth. The Demon lifted its wings and leapt high into the air, pumping its wing to gain ever greater altitude. Seeing what it was likely planning, Ron leapt down into the courtyard below. There, he crouched down and began drawing in, summoning as much raw magic from the world as he was able to draw upon. He pulled it in, filling his body up with so much power that his physical form actually started glowing a brilliant blue color not unlike his lightsaber blade.

Raising his gaze skywards, Ron watched as the Demon finally unleashed its flames down blindly upon the earth below it. Unlike earlier, the demonfire coalesced into a titanic fireball nearly as large as the castle that it was racing down towards. With a mighty leap that left behind a crater nearly as large the courtyard itself, Ron launched himself upwards to meet the fireball head on. He shot upwards with all the speed and power of a rocket, his body little more than blinding beacon of pure magical energies, his lightsaber forming the point of the missile he had become. Reaching the fireball, he disappeared within its flames. With his lightsaber repelling the flames away from his body and the magical backlash of his tremendous speed rippling outwards, the fireball had rapidly dissipated and disintegrated by the time he shot out of the other end. His speed was so tremendous that when he reached the Demon, he ended up blasting a blazing hole straight through its chest cavity.

Twisting in midair, Ron gazed down to see what effect his brutal attack had on the monster. The effect of the wound was immediate and fatal for the Demon. Its wings disintegrated into gouts of flame as fires burst outwards from the wounds, like steam escaping a kettle. Glowing cracks rapidly spread across its armor as yet more flames poured forth from its chest wound. Seeing the danger that he was in, being the closest to it, he quickly drew his wand and cast a powerful Protego shield around himself. It wasn't a moment too soon.

Multiple brilliant bursts of fire burst out of those cracks as the fires fought to escape their containment and the Demon's body erupted into a conflagration as blinding as the sun itself. High in orbit above, multiple satellites across the hemisphere were able to detect the explosion. Unable to properly decipher the strange energy signals, they registered it as a nuclear explosion being the closest approximate. The explosion following this flare-up was positively deafening, echoing across the lands for hundreds of miles in all directions. It was so powerful that it beat down on all individuals present at the scene as an almost-physical force trying to press against them from its source.

But once that explosion of noise faded off into the distance, an almost eerie silence fell over the battlefield. None of the survivors moved or could look away as they watched something that had never been done before. To kill a Demon was thought to have been utterly impossible. Nowhere in any recorded history, legend, or myth was it ever even _hinted_ at there being such a possibility. For as long as Wizards have always known, the only way to stop a Demon's rampage was to reopen the portals between worlds and send it back through. Thus, the absolute awe that all of the watchers felt slowly starting to replace the indescribable terror from minutes ago was almost enough to render a few dumbfounded from relief. It was a nearly religious moment for others.

Needless to say, long before Ron returned back to the ground, he had earned himself a new title and forever secured his place in the history books from henceforth. He would now always be remembered as Ron Weasley, the Demonslayer.

"Very impressive," said a haughty voice behind Tonks. Spinning around, the red-haired Auror found herself face to face with her _dearly beloved_ aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. Rather than look at her filthy mudblood niece, the crazy witch was gazing up at the descending form of the young swordsman. "I didn't think it was possible to kill a Demon. Now _that_ is a _true_ Pureblood!"

"What's it say about your leader that he'd bring one of those here on a field where all of his followers are without warning them?" Tonks asked, glaring and keeping her attention completely on her deranged aunt, ready for anything.

Bellatrix just let out a shrill laugh. "You think those no-name weaklings were all he had?!" Then her expression hardened as she snapped her wand up, a Dark spell springing forth immediately. If not for the reflexive Protego Charm that Tonks had conjured, she'd have been horrendously cursed without any warning. Though annoyed at Tonks' fast reflexes, Bellatrix didn't let it show on her stony face. "You know nothing!"

Tonks just smirked, knowing that she'd managed to irk her aunt. But before she could retort, Bellatrix suddenly jerked backwards with a loud gasp. Her free hand shot up to a burning agony that had flared up in her Dark Mark, which she quickly exposed and was staring at with wide eyes. "My lord! _Please, not now! __**GAHHH!**_" She fell to her knees, crying out in pain as the agony shot through the rest of her body. Tonks could only stare incomprehension to what was happening. Unknown to her, all across the battlefield and Great Britain in general, several thousand branded Death Eaters were mirroring Bellatrix's actions.

That was when a bright flash of green light coming from the lake attracted the attentions of the survivors.

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Sorry about the long wait. The previous chapter really wore me out and I've been busy in Real Life lately. Trying to find a house to buy is EXTREMELY difficult, especially in the area I'm living in. So, don't be surprised if the next chapter takes just as long, if not longer, as this one came out.

To be honest, this chapter isn't quite how I wanted it because I wanted to show a lot more of what was happening on the sidelines since events on the side are and can be just as important. But just the same, I decided that I didn't want this chapter hanging over my head any longer.

So, next chapter will most likely feature the conclusion of the Harry vs. Voldemort and the end of the war in general. But just because the war is over doesn't mean the troubles are done. The ICW army is here now (having sensed the tremendous power fluctuations from the 50 Sorcerers and the demon portal being opened) and they are out for blood because of the terrible losses they've taken. But that's for later.


	26. War's End

**The Lightsaber**  
By: Tellemicus Sundance  
_#26: War's End_

**Black Lake  
****April 9, 1996**

Harry was exhausted. There was no other way to put it. His fights with the Auror army and the sorcerous Specters had worn him down tremendously. It was a mistake he'd made in his self-training over the months since his exile from the Magical World and something that he hadn't truly realized until now. He had put all of his time and effort in his training on learning new types of magic, connecting with ambient magical energies of the world, and generally just expanding his knowledge base. But he had utterly failed to put any emphasis on his physical capabilities, most specifically his endurance, which also had a major impact on his magical potential. He knew that magic was like a muscle; the more one used it, the stronger it became. Because his natural reservoir of potential and power were quite monstrously high, even before he became a Sorcerer, he had never felt any need to learn how to endure in a prolonged fight. His new powers were so vast that he did not think anyone would be able to even touch him, leading him to not even bother exerting the effort in training his endurance in any way. Now he was just running on fumes, using up as much magic almost as quickly he was gaining it.

Admittedly, this shouldn't have been that big of a problem. Voldemort was still just a Wizard with a very finite pool of magic to use, even if he had far better control and endurance than Harry. Though, as Harry fell to one knee, heaving for breath and drawing in what little vestiges of magic he could reach, he suddenly found that his enemy was far more resourceful than he had initially thought. The power buildup that was filling Voldemort's wandtip was more than enough to prove this. Harry could feel what was happening and he was simultaneously utterly disgusted and shamefully impressed by what he saw happening.

Glancing over towards the remnants of the three armies that had gathered upon the grassy hills of the Hogwarts grounds, Harry watched as the Death Eaters and more than a few Aurors and Ministry officials suddenly began collapsing to the ground unconscious, utterly drained of all their magic and energies. Returning his gaze back to Voldemort, he said, "Stealing the magic of your underlings to empower yourself? Let me guess, it's the Dark Mark that you insist on all of them being imprinted with acting as the conduit."

"Clever boy," Voldemort complimented, chuckling as he felt himself swelling with the influx of power.

"Even with those meager amounts of power, you must know that you still aren't strong enough to overpower me," Harry bluffed, trying to pretend that he wasn't as tired as he really was. Despite that, he frowned as he wondered just what the Dark Lord was up to. "So what happens now?"

"Yes," Voldemort said, nodding with a sneer as he gazed as his kneeling opponent. "You may be magically stronger than me, but you are also exhausted."

Taking the last lingering strands of magic that he could grasp, Voldemort swept his wand down and began waving it in highly intricate patterns, chanting in ancient Latin. Harry just watched as Voldemort cast his spell, creating a void just in front of them. The void itself was just under an arm's length in size, and was a dark hole that seemed to suck in all light into its depths. It was a dead zone that Harry couldn't sense anything from. Then, just as his chanting began reaching a fever pitch, Voldemort suddenly thrust his arm into the void. After a long moment, he extracted his arm…and a black, intricately crafted longsword of ancient design. The sword gave off an aura that was every bit as foul and pungent as the Demon had been, seeming to consume and corrupt the very land, water, and air around it.

"Behold the Sword of Medrod!" Hefting up the black blade as the void he'd summoned it from vanished, Voldemort held the weapon over his head triumphantly before leveling it at Harry. "It is only fitting that you die on the very blade that killed Merlin himself."

Harry took a long moment to stare at the sword held before him. It strongly reminded him of the classical version of a Viking sword. The blade was long, but with a single handed hilt and a large pommel just underneath. And although there was a gold and gems inlaid in the hilt and pommel for decoration, the blade itself was what truly captured his attention. It was so black that it seemed as though the void it had come from had also formed the deadly blade instead of just simple metal. He could feel an aura of death and decay emitting from that black void of a sword blade. It was an oppressive feeling, bearing down on him with the weight of all his failures, fears, and doubts, not unlike a Dementor's aura. Holding up his lightsaber in a defensive stance, Harry took a slow breath, letting the energy of his blade soothe his fears and strengthen his resolve.

Seeing Harry preparing himself, Voldemort swept the Sword of Medrod downward towards his enemy. Sensing the onrushing energies of destruction and death, Harry leapt to the side frantically. He just barely managed to clear the area when the deadly magic struck where he had been. A long arcing beam of dark magic sliced through the air, ice, and rocky cliffs far behind Harry as it shot through the space where he had been. Harry glanced behind him just in time to witness a small explosion from within the cliff, just underneath Hogwarts itself. Turning back to face Voldemort, he grimaced at seeing Voldemort's wide and arrogant sneer. Yet, at the same time, Harry felt something interesting happening. Looking closely at the Dark Lord, he blinked slightly as watched a strange scale-like pattern started emerging on the man's skin. Before his eyes, he could see that pattern rapidly solidifying into actual scales all across his body.

"And that is just a tiny fraction of the power that the Sword of Medrod possesses!" Voldemort declared triumphantly, not at all noticing what was happening to his body. "Are you scared yet?"

"It…is…impressive," Harry grudgingly admitted, switching his gaze back to the sword momentarily. "But I find it more interesting that you needed to steal so much power in order to just summon it."

"It's not that surprising, boy," Voldemort countered, a frown now replacing his sneer as he too gazed at the sword he held. "Wizards possessed much higher levels of power and had a much vaster array of knowledge in magic back in those days. Compared to the standards of the time, even Dumbledore and myself _barely_ rank as average."

"…I wonder about that," Harry muttered, frowning. He was not at all sure that any of what Voldemort just said was true. But, in the end, it didn't matter. What did matter was what was happening to the Dark Lord. How could the man not notice? The magic of the sword was warping his body and magic the longer he held it. '_He wants to use a sword of power and renown to kill his greatest adversary before he takes control of the nation. He's trying to mimic the legends of old to make himself into one. How…ironic_.'

"Would you like to see what else it can do?" Voldemort asked, his sneer immediately returning.

Without even waiting for a reply, Voldemort began laughing loudly as he floated up several meters in the air and swept the sword back before slashing it forward. Fireballs, small meteorites, and even a few bolts of lightning suddenly materialized and came raining down on Harry, forcing the boy to dance backwards and zigzag as he dodged what he could and deflected the rest with his weapon and magic. The iceberg below him was pummeled, and it cracked and fractured into many tiny pieces during the attack. Seeing what was happening, Harry jumped as high as he could while waving his wand and froze the entirety of the lake's surface. Landing in an awkward slide, he dug his lightsaber tip into the ice to slow himself, leaving a sizzling gash in the ice ahead of him. Throughout all of this, Voldemort had been laughing at him as though he was watching the most amusing sight he'd ever witnessed before.

"You cannot stop me!" Voldemort declared cockily. Looking back upwards, Harry found Voldemort still floating above the ice, but this time he was within a transparent dome of red energy. Harry didn't need his Sorcery to know that that dome was of incredibly potent defensive magic, easily outshining the best shield charms. Then he watched as two metallic spheres materialized in front of Voldemort, glowing and sparking with electrical energy.

"Now, it is time for me to purify this world!" The two spheres floated forward slightly, their electrical glow intensifying as power began to build up. "_And I'll start with __**you**__!_" Twin bolts of golden lightning shot forward as he finished. Harry stuffed his wand into his belt as he held up his lightsaber. He was momentarily able to catch both bolts on the plasma blade before bringing up his free hand to grapple with the second lightning bolt. Thanks to his experience with electrical and lightning attacks, Harry was easily able to negate and dissipate the energy harmlessly on his naked palm. Once done, he looked up at Voldemort's furious face with a small smirk. Then he reached out his free hand and telekinetically crushed the two spheres into dust.

Snorting disinterestedly at Harry's minor triumph, after a brief moment to recompose himself, Voldemort's sneer returned full force. Raising the sword again, he held it out to the side. A brilliantly glowing disc of sickly green and yellow energy formed over the black sword, casting the Dark Lord's visage in a sinister green that only highlighted the spreading and hardening scales he now bore all across his body. From that large glowing disc, Harry could sense potent Dark Cutting and Fire magics within it. That was a spell meant to slice enemies into pieces while inflicting horrendous agony, he realized. Swinging the sword forward, he launched the large disc towards the young Sorcerer. Then he swung the sword back again, sending a small jolt of magic into the disc and causing it shatter into four identical but smaller discs as the original. All of which were now rushing towards Harry at easily three times the original speed.

Launching himself to the side, Harry started skating along the surface of the ice, swerving to the side as the discs swung around and rushed at him from the side. He ducked under one, skidded to a halt to dodge the second, jumped lightly over the third, and intercepted the fourth with his lightsaber. Though the disc was destroyed, the momentum of the impact still sent him his sliding uncontrollably backwards through the ice and across the ice when he landed. Looking around, he watched and sensed as the three remaining discs circled him. Suddenly, guided by Voldemort's desires, all of them swept forward all at once, trying to strike him simultaneously. Harry's head spun as he frantically looked for an escape route but found none. Then, just as they were almost on him, he acted on instinct and leapt up as high as he could manage. It worked out much better than he'd dared hope, with all of the discs slamming into one another and destroying each other.

Landing somewhat awkwardly back on the ice, Harry let out a breath of relief. '_That was __**far**__ too close!_'

Sensing a massive burst of magic, Harry spun to face Voldemort and froze, his mouth dropping slightly in shock and more than a little fear. Held suspended in the air over his head and the sword, Voldemort had a monstrously large orb of pulsating black magic. It was so large, it must've been the size of a small muggle helicopter. However, unlike the void that seemed to corrupt everything and led to _somewhere else_, he could clearly sense the magic inside that orb. It contained massive amounts of Death, Fire, Agony, Destruction, and Blasting magic. In his mind, Harry couldn't help comparing it to being the nuclear bomb of all Dark Magic spells. '_I can't __**stop that!**__ Not with how __**weak**__ I am right now!_'

Chuckling loudly over the pulsating waves that his bomb was making in the air, Voldemort sneered in complete confidence and triumph. "Yes, you _know_ what this is, don't you, boy?! Try to _dodge_ this, and it'll destroy everything within a _league's distance_ of this spot! Try to _block_ it, and it'll only focus its energy on _you!_ No matter what happens now, _you die!_ The only question you have to ask yourself is: _how __**many**__ are you willing to let die along __**with**__ you?!_"

Harry could only frown, looking down at his feet. There was no question to ask, he already knew his answer. Deactivating his lightsaber, he stuffed it into his belt, next to his wand. Holding up his hands out to his sides, he closed his eyes in concentration, drawing in magic and sending it through his arms and hands. '_This is going to __**really**__ hurt, but… I have no choice_.'

Seeing his enemy bringing his hands up in an obvious preparatory gesture to catch the orb, Voldemort hissed in anger and threw the bomb, trying to not give the boy enough time to properly set himself. Harry just held his ground as the deadly spell rushed at him like an out-of-control locomotive. Just as the spell as almost on him, he thrust his arms up and caught it on his bare palms. Gritting his teeth, he fought against yelling out in pain as the dangerous dark magics instantly started burning and blistering his hands. But that pain was only secondary to the immense weight of the spell, slamming into him, causing his arms to start buckling under its incredible mass, faltering his footing and sending him to one knee. Underneath his feet, he could feel the thick layer of ice starting to crack and fracture.

Straining with all his remaining might, Harry started pushing back. '_I won't let it explode! I won't let it happen! I __**can't**__! __**Too many**__ people will __**die**__!_' Crying out, he heaved again, fighting to push it away. Little by little, inch by agonizing inch, it started to rise, even as cold lake waters started breaking through the cracks below.

Above him, Voldemort's eyes narrowed dangerously as he saw his most powerful and dangerous spell freeze in place momentarily. The boy was stronger than he'd given him credit for, but no matter. Pointing the sword at his spell, he channeled his magic into it. "_You don't know when to __**give up**__!_" he cried out, sending a large blast of pure magic out of the swordtip and into the Dark spell, greatly boosting its already massive power. With the sudden and unexpected boost, the spell immediately overwhelmed Harry's staggered rise, slamming into him bodily as it sent him crashing down into and through the ice. All Harry could do in response was frantically wrap a protective cocoon of Protego magic around himself as the inevitable happened.

The orb was actually half submerged into the shattered ice and cold lake water when it finally combusted, lighting up the area in a blinding flash of pure Destructive magical might. The effect was similar but much weaker in comparison to the Demon's earlier destruction high up in air overhead. The explosion lasted for nearly twenty seconds, but it was positively blinding and deafening. Once its power had run out and the magic began to fade, Voldemort turned back to see his handiwork. All that greeted him was the convulsing surface of the lake with a few scattered icebergs within.

'_Did he survive?_' he wondered. He couldn't see the boy anywhere, but that didn't necessarily mean that he was alive or dead. Frowning, he decided to be cautious and waved the sword broadly over the surface, once again freezing the lake under a much thicker layer of ice. Now feeling quite a bit more confident, he threw back his head and started laughing triumphantly at his victory. _Finally_, he'd _killed_ the brat! And now he could finish his conquest of Great Britain! _Nothing_ and _no one_ would be able to stand in his way anymore! It would _finally _all be_ his!_ "_**BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**_"

Suddenly, a blue bolt of burning energy shot from the shore and slammed into his shoulder. Crying out as the burning agony shot through his wound, Voldemort spun around and glared furiously at where the shot came from. It was easy to see who shot it, that short armored figure from earlier crouched down amongst the rubble of the castle. He quite literally had the smoking gun in his hand. If that wasn't enough of a clue, the boy shouted out, "I _FINALLY_ HIT YA, YA _BLACKHEARTED __**INBRED **__**BASTARD**__!_"

Voldemort hissed in fury, healing his wound with a wave of his wand. He didn't how or what that boy was. He was clearly using magical weapons to kill, but he used no known weapons that the Dark Lord was familiar with. He didn't use any spells or indeed any kind of conventional magic at all. It was almost as though he didn't have any magic at all. Either that or he was supremely confident in his unorthodox weapons. Once done with his wound, the Dark Lord shot forwards to remove that anomaly from the battlefield once and for all.

* * *

He was sinking. The cold water of the Black Lake was enveloping his senses, turning his body numb. Despite the cold, he actually somewhat enjoyed it since it was an almost soothing balm on his exhausted muscles and body. But just the same, it was also cutting him off from the air so his lungs were soon burning for fresh oxygen. But as much as he wanted to, Harry couldn't even find the strength to right himself and swim for the surface. It had taken all of his remaining power just to shield himself from the destructive powers of that black ball. He was running on empty now and had nothing left to give or use.

Was this how it was going to end for him? Drown in the lake just outside of the castle he loved and hated so much? If so, how ironic it was to drown in the middle of a battle, a war, that had so many differing sides and clashing players. He'd probably be go down in history as the only person in the present setting to do so. And the worst part, no matter how much he wanted otherwise, he couldn't do anything about it.

Reaching out with his senses, Harry could feel that the battle had once again shifted, back towards the castle. Voldemort was fighting against Dudley, of all people. Tonks, Magorian, Hendrick, and Ron were all preoccupied elsewhere, trying to fend off an army of furious ICW soldiers who were trying to seize control of the castle. '_I'm proud of you guys_,' he thought morbidly. '_Even without me, you guys can fight on. You didn't need __**me**__ to win this war. You never __**really**__ did._' Looking off to the side, he gazed unseeingly into the watery darkness around him. '_I have truly lost my place from the Wizarding World. And I really don't have a place in the Muggle World either. Voldemort was right. I really don't have anything or anyone._'

'_Then go out there and find somewhere and someone_,' a strong elderly male voice suddenly said into his mind, causing Harry to blink in surprise. Then, before his eyes, he watched as a shining cluster of lights blinked into existence within an arm's reach away. '_Quit feeling sorry for yourself, kid. Go out there and finish what you started_.'

'_Who are you?_' Harry asked, on guard but extremely curious.

'…_A guide_,' the voice answered.

'_A guide for what?_'

'_For the path you've chosen to walk_,' the voice said. '_I've been watching you since you first awakened to the world around you. You are unique in many ways, kid. You possess a truly remarkable connection and talent for magic and the energies of the world. And that is perhaps your greatest weakness and failing. Such as, why have you let this battle continue for so long?_'

'_I'm tired!_' Harry snapped, feeling immediately defensive. '_He's taken the magic of his followers and is using magic that I don't know how to fight against. He's too strong for me now_.'

'_That's not why you're failing_,' the voice countered knowingly. '_It is not your enemy you fear. It is not your exhaustion holding you back. It is not even your reluctance to kill. It is your fear of your own power_.'

'_What?_' Harry asked, confused. '_What does __**that**__ mean?!_'

'_You have neglected your training so much that it's no wonder your having so much trouble_,' the voice said. '_You must train yourself under critical conditions in order to reach beyond your normal limitations. But you were born with power and never had to commit to anything because it was easy. And whenever something wasn't served on a silver platter, you looked to others to solve your problems for you_.'

'_Shut up!_' Harry yelled furiously. '_You don't know anything about me and my life!_'

'_It's time you bit the bullet and started caring about something with all of your heart and energy, but you can't do that if you keep holding yourself back in fear of it not working out for you! Always relying on others to do the heavy lifting for you!_'

'_**I DO CARE!**_' Harry roared back. '_**WHY ELSE WOULD I BE FIGHTING NOW?!**_"

'_If you truly felt that way, this battle would've been long over and your enemy dead_.'

'_**I'VE BEEN TRYING!**_'

'_Do or do not. There is no try_.'

That statement immediately silenced Harry's rampaging thoughts and snuffed out his rage faster than the freezing water around him. Do or do not. Such a simple statement, and yet it sent many reverberating implications coursing through his mind in an instant. As so many conflicting thoughts and feelings swirled around within him, Harry could only softly ask, '_Who are you? Really?_'

Silence answered him for several long moments. Then, finally, the voice returned, '_Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. Release your grip on your fears. Let your confidence fuel your body. Allow the forces of the world to fill you. Believe in yourself and you will find a way. Now get up there and end this conflict._' With that said, the floating lights faded from view and Harry knew that the voice had departed to whence it had come from.

It was at this same moment that he sensed the approach of several creatures from deeper below him. Looking down, Harry spotted several merpeople rising upwards from the watery depths. But upon them spotting him, they pulled up to a stop and gazed up at him. Through his senses, Harry could feel their confusion, their anger, and their fear. They didn't know what was happening upon the surface and they didn't like the many disturbances that had rocked their lake's surface and the magical currents around them.

One of the merpeople, a young maiden by the looks of her, raised one of her hands towards Harry. As she did, he could sense her own magic rising to the surface, gathering within the hand she was holding out towards him. But she did nothing more than merely holding it out towards him, her expression questioning, hesitant. He knew what she was doing, what she was doing. Lifting up his own, Harry looked at his hand, thinking, puzzling, trying to make a decision.

But his decision was cut short when he suddenly felt the burning in his lungs rising sharply, too much to be ignored any longer. Against his will, the air bubbles burst out of his mouth as he floundered in an instinctive attempt to grab the air and haul it back to him as they shot upwards. After a few moments as he was futilely trying to breathe underwater, a pair of arms suddnely grasped his and pulled him forwards. His lips met those of the mermaid, air being pushed from her into him. Sweet, delicious, live-giving air!

After he coughed out the water that had flooded his mouth and lungs, the mermaid leaned in again and blew yet more air into his mouth. Pulling back, revived and grateful, Harry smiled weakly at the mermaid, nodding in gratitude as she pulled away from him. Again, she lifted her hand, offering it to him. Looking at her hand again, he again held up his own hand, unsure if he should. He glanced upwards towards the iced over surface, in time to see a fiery explosion flash to life briefly and feeling a life be extinguished at the same instant. Returning his gaze on the mermaid, he made his decision.

* * *

Things had taken a truly unexpected turn up on the surface when a pair of jetfighters suddenly roared over the battlefield. The highspeed Muggle aircraft brought all fighting to a standstill as the Wizards and Witches saw something that left dire implications. The wards around Hogwarts had been destroyed when the Demon had crashed into the castle, pulling down the protections that had endured for centuries. And the Demon's following explosive death had been the guiding light to draw Muggle attention straight to the area. Since their military satellites had detected the explosion but could only classify it as nuclear, the military had been hastily mobilized and the Air Force scrambled to locate the epicenter of the supposed nuclear disaster.

Though he didn't quite understand all of that, the now-monstrous Voldemort understood enough to realize that the Wizarding World had been irresistibly exposed. His plans for a hostile takeover of the country, magical and muggle alike, had just been irreparably destroyed. Seeing his meticulously laid plans utterly destroyed like this was something that he very rarely ever had happen. But when it did, it would throw him into a blinding rage the likes of which tended to be quite lethal to ones involved.

This was the case for the two jetfighter pilots as he lashed out with his magic. Roaring in rage, he created a pair of the energy disc similar to what he'd made against Potter and lashed them out against the jetfighters. The discs flew off and impossibly slashed straight through the centers of the jetfighters' main bodies, neatly bisecting for a second before the jets' explosive fuels and missile warheads exploded in a spectacular fashion high overhead.

"FILTH MUGGLES!" he screamed. "YOU DARE TO DESECRATE THIS HOLIED GROUND?!"

"It's your fault, technically," the armored boy he'd been trying and failing to kill called out.

As Voldemort swung back towards him, he was forced to dodge backwards as he spotted the boy lunging through the air with a large hammer in hand, its large head glowing ominously with magical energies. The hammerhead hit the ground where the Dark Lord had been standing, sending out a pulse of magic that scattered all loose debris for several meters in all directions and shaking the ground momentarily. Hefting up his hammer, the boy held up the weapon in a defensive stance as Voldemort reflexively threw a Killing Curse at him. The curse struck the weapon, impacting with the glowing crystal it contained, which immediately faded as its power was destroyed, and throwing the hammer haphazardly out of the boy's grip. Even as Voldemort was casting a second Killing Curse, the boy had flung himself to the side as one of his hands flew to his belt and snatched one of those gun things he still carried.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN WIN AGAINST ME, BOY?!" Voldemort cried, swinging the Sword of Medrod and sending out a slicing slash. To the Dark Lord's growing frustration, the boy managed to duck under the magic as he held up his gun. Why was he having so much trouble killing this boy?! This wasn't like with Potter. This boy had no magic, no skills, nothing remarkable about him, and yet he was still managing to hold his own against the Dark Lord like the best of the Wizards he'd ever faced before. HOW?!

"Actually, no, I don't," the boy answered, a smile quite obviously pulling across his face underneath that annoying mask he wore. "I'm just buying time for the real hero to make his triumphant return."

"What?" was all Voldemort could say to that, even as yet more jetfighters suddenly flew by overhead. In the distance, a loud thumping sound could be heard as helicopters rapidly closed in.

But none of that mattered to Voldemort as a sudden and strong pulse of magic swept over him and the surrounding landscape. Turning towards where he could 'sense' this pulse coming from, he stared at the frozen lake as a strange blue light began shining up from its depths. It became so blindingly bright that the light engulfed the whole frozen surface. Then, with a burst of shattered ice and splashes of water, blazing figure positively glowing with power rose up into the air, shining like a small blue sun.

After a long moment, the figure floated forwards and set down on the rocky shore not too far from where Voldemort himself was standing, the blinding light dimming as it approached. By the time that the figure had set down, the glow had vanished fully and revealed the revitalized and empowered appearance of Harry Potter. His clothing was nearly completely gone, clad only in the tattered remains of his pants and his ever-faithful Centaur-iron pauldron over his shoulder, lightsaber hilt gripped in one hand, his eyes still glowing the same blazing blue as the power that had previously surrounded him.

"_It's time to end this, Tom Marvolo Riddle_," Harry said, his voice seemingly vibrating with the barely contained power he now wielded. Glancing over at his cousin, Harry smiled, "_Thanks for stalling him, Dudley_."

Smirking, Dudley threw him a sloppy salute with his pistol. "Anytime, Harry. It was fun while it was lasted."

Seeing his hated nemesis returned and seemingly stronger than ever before, Voldemort hissed in unfathomable rage. "Don't get overconfident, _boy!_" he snapped, his red eyes practically glowing in his rage. "Although diluted, the power of the Sword of Medrod is _beyond that_ of which _you can __**defeat**__!_" With another powerful swing, Voldemort launched another destructive slash towards the young Sorcerer. Unlike last time, Harry didn't dodge the strike. Instead, he held up his lightsaber and slashed into the magic arc, slicing it in two and causing it to dissipate harmlessly.

As Voldemort floated there, staring in disbelief at Harry's sudden resistance, the boy held out a hand and formed a ball of glowing magical energy. After condensing it down into a sphere of crackling electrical shocks and wispy heat, he hurled the ball at the Dark Lord. The energy ball was a basic attack he'd learned from the crystal ball. It was apparently first created in Ancient Japan and was called the Reikodan.

Seeing the incoming attack, Voldemort sneered at it arrogantly. Despite his arrogance, he still brought his arms up in a defensive posture, remembering the sudden difficulty he was experiencing with Harry. The Reikodan crashed into the protective sphere, momentarily halting as the two energies battled one another as the immovable object met the unstoppable force. And the unstoppable force found the immovable object wanting…

The Reikodan punched through the sphere and slammed into Voldemort's crossed arms before exploding spectacularly. As the explosion died down, a blackened figure fell from the air and crashed into the icy surface below. Heaving for breath, Harry remained where he stood, keeping his lightsaber up and ready as he waited for the Dark Lord to climb back upright. Finally, after a few stressful moments, a long, scaly arm reached out of the icy crater. Then a scaly bald head appeared, eyes glowing red with rage and more than a little incomprehension. Voldemort's once majestic cloak was shredded, hanging off his bony shoulders and down around his tail in tatters.

Finally taking notice of what had happened to his body, Voldemort hissed in fear and disbelief. Rapidly looking himself over, the Dark Lord discovered that his body had been twisted and changed into a half-human, half-snake creature with dark green scales and long claws on the ends of his fingers. Turning his furious gaze upon Harry, Voldemort hissed out, "_What have you done to me?!_"

"Only now noticing it? I'm surprised it's taken you this long." Shaking his head in exasperation and resignation, Harry replied as calmly as he could, "I have done nothing to you, Tom. This is entirely _your_ doing. I really should pity you, call you an idiot and a fool. Then I'd just feel like a hypocrite." Seeing that the rage was about to once again seize control of his enemy and cause him to attack again, Harry hastened to explain. "You were toying with magics and powers that you didn't understand."

"What are you talking about?!"

"What you're holding right there isn't what you think it is," Harry said, pointing towards the sword still in the Dark Lord's grasp. "That is not the Sword of Medrod."

"_**What**__ are you __**talking**__ about?"_ Voldemort repeated. "Of course it is! I've researched it for _years!_"

Shaking his head at the Dark Lord's willful ignorance, Harry said, "You really should've paid more attention to the Muggle World, or at least the old legends. If you'd had, you would know that the Sword of Medrod didn't kill _Merlin_. It killed _King Arthur_." Harry would forever claim that the look of dumbfounded realization that dawned upon Voldemort's face just then would always be one of his most cherished memories because of the sheer absurdity of it. Honestly, how could a Halfblood raised with Muggles such as himself have forgotten such an important detail in a story that he must've heard many times as a child? "I don't know what weapon you're holding right now, but that is not the Sword of Medrod. Oh and by the way, Medrod was also a muggle."

"No, no, _NO!_" Voldemort cried out, glaring at the sword as though it had committed a deeply personal grievance upon him. Which, in a way, it had. Then he turned his glare upon Harry before swinging the sword at him again in rage. Harry didn't even bother trying to dodge or defend himself. He just watched as the attack fizzled out and died not even halfway between them. Panting heavily at the effort he'd had to make just to launch the spell, Voldemort stared uncomprehendingly as his body started sagging, his knees bowing deeply from the effort just to remain standing. "_What's going on here?!_"

"You have lost," Harry declared. "You lost the moment you summoned that thing out of the void and you only have yourself to blame."

"What?" Despite his rage, the word came out weakly.

"Did you really think stealing the magic of your followers would empower you?" Harry asked. "Did you really think that fracturing and splitting your soul wouldn't have repercussions? Did you truly believe that you were exempt from the laws and consequences of magic?" Voldemort just stared at him like a petulant schoolboy being educated by a much wiser professor. "Power _freely given_ is much stronger than that which is _forcefully taken_. And by splitting your soul into pieces, you damaged your own ability to wield your magic to its fullest potential, making yourself weaker with each piece you shed. Whatever that sword is, it is feeding upon your magic, transforming your body to mirror the monstrosity that you've twisted your soul into becoming." Here, Harry couldn't help smirking at the snake creature before him. "You are the architect of your own defeat this time."

"No, no, no, _no, NO, NO, __**NOOOO**__!_" Voldemort cried out, trying to reverse or fight against the force that was consuming him. But it was far too late and he was far too weak. Turning his gaze back upon Harry, he felt one last surge of hatred. Hefting up the sword with all of his remaining strength, he channeled the last few bits of his mighty magic into it as he cried out, "If I must die, I'm taking you with me!" Then he brought the sword down in a powerful slash towards his hated mortal enemy.

Time slowed down for Voldemort, who could only watch what unfolded as his body started growing heavy and unresponsive. Harry Potter rushed forward from where he'd stood. His glowing sword blade flashed down in an arc of blue-white light, striking the black void that was Voldemort's cursed sword. Impossibly, the glowing blade bit into and then cut through the darkness that Voldemort had truly believed was stronger than any earthly metal, snapping the deadly weapon in two. As the black sword separated into two pieces, it crumbled like ash in the wind and vanished into nothingness.

Then, still moving at such an unprecedented speed, Harry reversed his swing and brought his lightsaber upwards, neatly slicing into and through Voldemort's hideous body at a sharp angle. His upper body and right arm started falling to one side while his lower body and left arm fell to the other side. But neither of them landed upon the ground below him. Instead, he felt a powerful force ram into him and knock both pieces of him flying backwards, high into the air. He didn't know how long he flew through the air, his mind and body rapidly shutting down as death started to claim him. But he did vaguely feel the impact as he struck and smashed through something wooden and came to rest underneath it, gazing upwards. His last glimpse of sight was that of Minister Fudge's ridiculous bowler hat before the darkness finally claimed him.

Back on the rubble-covered grounds of the Hogwarts castle, Harry deactivated his lightsaber and fell to one knee, breathing heavily. '_It's over_,' he thought, an overwhelming sensation of relief washing over him, amplified by the relief and mounting joy of the rest of the people nearby who'd witnessed it. '_It's __**finally**__over!_' Lifting his head, Harry looked over at where he'd thrown Voldemort's corpse and chuckled weakly. "I told you I wouldn't stop…until he lay at your feet, Fudge."

Bowing his head as he lowered one hand to steady himself on the ground, he started slowly trying to catch his breath and regain all of his lost power. It wouldn't be a quick recovery, even with the newfound magic he had coursing through him. He could feel the ambient magic in the environment was greatly depleted, thanks in large part to having so many Sorcerers nearby and from how much power there had been used to fight against everyone else. Maybe in an hour or two, he might be catch his fifth (or was it sixth at this point?) wind, but right now he was utterly exhausted.

Lifting his head, Harry reached into his pocket for his wand, intending to reverse the ice spell on the lake and to conjure some new clothes for himself. Though, as he held up his wand, he blinked and then gasped in horror. It was snapped in two pieces! "My wand!"

* * *

There must've been over twenty helicopters that descended down upon the Hogwarts grounds within the next few minutes, each of them divesting as many soldiers as they could carry within them, and all of them armed with machine guns and rifles. As to be expected, none of the present Wizards or Witches were inclined to cooperate with the Muggles. Things were heading towards a confrontation quickly with each side desiring the other to stand down and let them take control of the situation. Neither willing to submit, and both expecting a fight to take place. And things would've most assuredly taken that route had Ron not stepped in.

Landing down in the midst of the two sides from the large jump he'd taken from the castle, he held out his arms towards both sides. With his Sorcery, he grasped ahold of every soldier and Wizard that he could and held them in place, freezing them and preventing them from acting out.

"That's enough!" he shouted, glancing between both sides. "There's been enough fighting and deaths today! All of you will stand down, now!"

"Who are you?!" one of the soldiers demanded, one of the few in the back that wasn't under Ron's control. From what he could see of the imposing man, he must've most assuredly been a high-ranking officer, at the very least the one in command of the soldiers present on the ground. "What's going on here?!"

"My name is Ron Weasley," Ron answered easily. "Your questions will be answered, but everyone needs to calm down! No more fighting! I'm tired of it! Everyone is! Let's talk this out!"

"I couldn't agree more with you, Mr. Weasley," a familiar voice from behind the line of Wizards and Witches spoke up. It had the obvious effect of delighting and calming Ron down as he turned and looked over at the panting form of Albus Dumbledore striding forward through the line. "I believe you can release them now, my boy. I don't think they'll be making any more aggressive actions at this point." Turning his gaze upon the commanding officer, he pointed said, "Correct, sir?"

"That depends on _them_," the man said, gesturing towards the glowering and angry forms of the magical in front of him. "_That lot_ looks ready for the fight to _me_."

Glancing back at the magicals, most of whom were the ICW enforcers and were indeed fighting desperately to free themselves of Ron's grip to attack, Albus looked back to the man and nodded. "I understand. But to be fair, you and your men have come charging into our lands with obvious intents to seize control and subjugate us."

"We detected a massive _nuclear explosion_ overhead, lost _two_ of my _pilots_, and found what looks like a _civil war_ taking place around an old castle," the man pointed out. "_Of course_ we're going to take control for the foreseeable future."

And thus the back and forth negotiations went, for several long and stressful hours for all involved.

* * *

"Harry, are you alright?!" Hermione asked as she and several others came running up to him, including Tonks, Hendrick, and Magorian.

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said, smiling weakly from where he was leaning heavily upon his cousin's shoulder.

"That was _awesome_, Harry!" one of the students cried out. "_How_ did you do that? _What_ did you do?!"

"I just…got a little help…" Harry said, glancing back towards the lake with a slight smile. '_Thank you, my friend._' Whether he was speaking towards the disembodied voice or the mermaid, even he wasn't sure. He was just grateful that he was able to get his head on straight again and the temporary help that was given.

"A little? A LITTLE?!" Tonks cried out, striding forward and grasping his shoulders to lightly shake him. "You had more power than anything or anyone I've ever heard of! And you call that 'a little'?!" Seeing her relieved and honest expression, Harry just smiled at the young woman wanly. Sighing heavily, she pulled him into a tight hug, ignoring his wet hair as she rubbed against the side of his head with her own.

"Soooo, what'd we miss?" someone else asked suggestively, seeing something other than a friendly reunion between friends taking place. But the implication was still enough to cause both of them to separate with obvious flushes of embarrassment.

"Hold still!" a loud, demanding voice suddenly called out, all of the crowd turning to face the speaker. It was a group of twenty ICW soldiers, all glaring at the group with their wands held at the ready. "You're under arrest for multiple charges, including but not limited to breaking the Statute of Secrecy and practicing Sorcery!"

As the rest of the group let out cries of anger, denial, and contempt, Harry just sighed. He could already guess what would happen. If he resisted, another fight would break out, which would easily snowball into another all-out battle. This time it wouldn't be between the Ministry and Centaurs, or those Specters and him or the Death Eaters and the Hogwarts defenders. No, this time it would be between the enforcers of the ICW and the arriving army of Muggles. There would only be bloodshed on all sides, with the Muggles most likely coming out the pyrrhic victors after a war of attrition but still learning next to nothing about the hows and whys of the battle in the first place.

"Alright, I surrender," Harry said softly. But even though he spoken gently, his voice still carried over the arguing Wizards and Witches, drawing everyone's gazes unto him. Pulling himself from Dudley's shoulder and taking a few tentative steps forward on unsteady legs, he said, "If it will prevent more bloodshed, then I will freely go with you."

"But, Harry—!"

"I have to, Hermione!" Harry snapped, looking over at one of his best friends. "It's time I was held accountable for what's happened. And what will come will come regardless. I won't run from it!"

Hermione, Tonks, Dudley, indeed everyone around him looked ready to argue the point but were holding themselves back upon seeing his expression. Moving forward weakly, he held out his lightsaber to the man in charge, who took it without comment but kept his attention and wand locked on the boy. Gathering around him, the squad of enforcers marched him away from his friends to what looked like a caged carriage near where the first group of enforcers had originally landed during the battle.

Climbing weakly into the carriage, Harry's last parting view of the area was that of many different sides that were involved in the battle conjoining and moving. Trying to pick up the pieces, sort out the details, and regain order. He saw Ron and Albus and several other Order members gathered with the Muggle and ICW commanding officers, trying to negotiate a peaceful ceasefire between their parties. He saw the remnants of the Ministry officials gathered around a portion of the pavilion, keeping the panicking and frothing form of Minister Fudge from fleeing from the corpse of the resurrected and recently deceased monstrous form of Voldemort. He saw a crowd of Hogwarts students still lining the walls of the castle, keeping anyone they didn't know and trust from approaching. He saw his cousin and friends staring mournfully after him as he looked back at them. He saw Magorian and Hendrick go fleeing into the Forbidden Forest where he could sense that the rest of the Lycans and Centaurs were still waiting for their return.

But most of all, he could see where his lightsaber was clipped to the belt of an ICW enforcer as he slammed the door shut in Harry's face.

'_I wonder what'll happen next?_' Harry asked himself before he sank back against the side of the uncomfortable carriage wall. In next to no time, his eyes were closing as exhaustion swept in and unconsciousness claimed him.

* * *

_Looking down at the small form that was resting against his side, the old man smiled. His granddaughter had fallen asleep at some point in his retelling, but he didn't mind. She was still young, but she'd learn and understand in time. Glancing out the window, he saw that while the storm was still raging, it was starting to die down. By the time morning came, it would've long since passed._

"_That's not exactly the way I remember the story going, Father," a voice from the doorway spoke. It was a woman with short black hair and dressed in silky pajamas that complimented her athletic figure wonderfully. Though her eyes were hazel colored like her mother, they had the same look of power that the old man's did, practically glowing like a cat in the darkness of the night._

"_Well, if I'd told her how it really happened, she'd probably have nightmares for several weeks," the man countered ruefully. Standing up gently, he easily picked up the young child and turned towards his daughter. "I know it gave __**you**__ nightmares the first time you heard it."_

"_True," the woman agreed reluctantly. There was no point in arguing with her father after all. Moving forward, she gently took the child from his arms and moved back towards the hall beyond. Before she departed entirely, she turned back and said, "Good night, father."_

_Harry Potter nodded back to his daughter as he returned to his bed, closing the door softly with just a minor flex of his magic. His gaze returning back to the old weapon he'd been looking at from the start, he smiled wanly down at it. "So many memories wrapped up around you, my old friend. I wonder how many more you'll gain after I've finally left for my own 'next grand adventure'." Finally setting the weapon aside on the nearby bedside table, he swung his legs up as he laid down on the bed, sleep finally claiming him as dreams and memories intermixed within his mind._

_TO BE CONTINUED..._

* * *

(**Author's Note**) Big time shout-outs to my longtime friend **Fiori57** and my new beta **badassumbreon** for helping me clean up this chapter and smooth out the Voldemort fight! Also, for those who are interested, 'Modred' is the Cornish version of 'Mordred' from the old Camelot stories.

And before anyone asks, YES, this story is OVER. I'm ending it here for several reasons. But the most prominent ones are 1) the story is just becoming too big for me to write anymore, too many things happening for me to keep track of them all by myself, 2) I was starting to lose interest in the story because it's been taking so long for me to write it, 3) Real Life has become increasingly more demanding of my time and attention recently, and 4) I figure that starting from scratch with the sequel (The Sorcerer) would be a lot easier and fun than continuing this one.

I know that a lot of stuff has been left unresolved and unanswered. Chiefly being: what's going to happen to Harry now, where will the Centaurs go, how will the Lycan Army cope with the 'administrative changes' that happened at MagiTech. what's the Consortium got to do with any of this, and how will the situation with the Muggle Army be resolved? All good questions, but I fully intend to address each one with the sequel, should I decide to write it.

The long and the short of it is I'm tired of this story and need a break from it. I don't know when I'll get back to it, but I do want to write that sequel because I also want to know what'll happen next, just not right away. So, please be patient with me.

**Or, for any aspiring writers, if you're interested in writing your own story in this universe I've created, just send me a PM and we can discuss possibilities.**


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